


Pace is the Trick

by foxxing (gayfantasticfour)



Series: Who's Gonna Love You Like Me? [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: (just jb and junior), Angst, Drinking, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Violence, Multiple Pov, RIP, desperate!jb, exotic dancer!junior, handjobs, hear me out, idk lowkey a lot of sex lmao, mostly just angst, ok maybe more like, stripper!junior, that's rly it, there's a looooot of angst in this i'm so srry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 51,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayfantasticfour/pseuds/foxxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaebum was always so sure that he'd never hurt Park Jinyoung ever again--after growing up hating each other, cosmic justice planted them in the most incredible relationship either of them have ever had, and he's convinced that it's forever. That is, until, work gets in the way. The day Park Jinyoung walks out on him is the day he feels like he'll never be able to breathe again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok here it is, the sequel to [Better Late Than Never](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5192696/chapters/11965334), aka the rich college boys!au that i so desperately needed that i wrote it myself :p 
> 
> remember that this is a work of fiction, so suspend disbelief and pretend that business works exactly how this makes it work (i dont know anything about business practices, im just a simple meme babie), all the other characters are fictionalized and not based on anyone (even if they have the same name) 
> 
> idk if this matters but i listened to a lot of FOALS, The Weeknd, some Drake, Taemin, etc while i was writing so take that for what it is~ 
> 
> ALSO this definitely wasn't edited by anyone but me, so there's most definitely going to be some mistakes here and there!!! so i'm sorry :c be gentle rip 
> 
> here it is!!! enjoy <3333

Jaebum has been sleeping on the couch the past couple of days.

It’s not necessarily normal, but it’s happened enough times that he’s also not really surprised when a pissed off Jinyoung slams their bedroom door in his face and slides the lock home, leaving him to strip to his boxers and put his suit on the coffee table. He knows Jinyoung will forgive him tomorrow—he’s never slept on the couch for more than four days, which was only because he accidentally compared Jinyoung to his high school girlfriend (that he’s told Jinyoung he never really liked, he only dated her because it felt normal, it made his parents happy; she was controlling and obnoxious) during a fight they were having, which also incidentally resulted in Dry Spell #1. During Dry Spell #1, he was spending a lot of time jerking off loudly in the living room while Jinyoung pouted equally as loud from across the apartment. Dry Spells #2, 3, and 4 all lasted less than 2 days when Jinyoung got tired of also jerking himself off loudly in various rooms of their apartment.

The last few years have been…interesting. Going from growing up hating Park Jinyoung with every fiber of his being to crashing into love with him (because it certainly couldn’t be called falling—fist fights on the soccer field and threatening each other in dressing rooms and angrily making out with each other doesn’t sound like the sort of “falling in love” they make up in the movies) and ultimately having him become the center of his entire universe was an adjustment, to say the least. But after they graduated college and Jaebum’s father gave him the top seat in the company, they moved in together and it’s been the two of them, inseparable, for the past 5 years. Yugyeom and Jinyoung were forced into a peace treaty, seeing as neither of them were going to leave Jaebum’s life anytime soon, which ultimately just turned into the two of them becoming a team ganging up on Jaebum at every opportunity. Seeing them with their heads leaned together and their ankles tangled while they’re just hanging out on the couch watching some shitty drama warms Jaebum’s heart, but when they dissolve into laughing fits as they mercilessly go in on Jaebum, well, sometimes he finds himself wishing they still hated each other. Mark ended up moving back to Seoul, and BamBam and Youngjae integrated themselves into one unit seamlessly, which meant the six of them became “that” friend group. They went everywhere together, did everything together, spent all their holidays together in their own little stitched together family more than they did their own actual families.

The hardest person to get to come around was Jackson. After Jinyoung broke up with him in college, he left their apartment and didn’t talk to any of them for years. The only person he would speak to was BamBam, and BamBam always sheepishly told them that Jackson specifically requested that he not tell them how Jackson was doing. It drove Jinyoung crazy, and drove Jaebum into silent fits of rage—for months he held Jinyoung while he cried until he wore himself out and fell asleep, his face drained of color and stained with salt. Jaebum would have to carry him to their bed, Jinyoung’s arms around his neck so tight it was almost a chokehold, and Jaebum never mentions it, but all the times Jinyoung cried himself into unconsciousness and Jaebum carried him to bed, he always answered Jinyoung’s mantras of _please don’t ever leave, don’t go, I love you so, don’t ever leave me,_ with _I love you, I’m here, it’s forever._

He hated Jackson for a long time for this. And although he never said those words to Jinyoung, he’s sure that Jinyoung knew, anyway. After a while, it stopped making Jinyoung cry and just made him angry—Jaebum switched from having to carry a broken Jinyoung to their room to stopping him from smashing all their plates against the walls of their kitchen in fits of rage that put Jaebum’s to shame. After the anger was acceptance, and they finally found their peace—Jinyoung was still sad, which Jaebum understood: Jackson was Jinyoung’s best friend, in a way that Jaebum couldn’t replicate, which he didn’t hate either of them for. But Jinyoung no longer cried himself to sleep or angrily threw dishes at the wall, and they talked about Jackson often, with fondness tinged with sadness, but fondness nonetheless. And then, after 3 years of radio silence, just before Jinyoung’s 24th birthday, Jackson called. He showed up at their apartment 6 hours later, and the pure relief that emanated from Jinyoung’s entire body when Jackson swept him up in a hug so hard that he was worried Jackson was going to snap him in half made Jaebum’s eyes burn with tears. In that moment, he hoped another person would never hurt Jinyoung in this way again. He was for goddamn sure it was never going to be him.

With that final piece of the puzzle back in place, the six of them became the seven of them, and it became this: weekends at the Park and Im household, dinners during the week, vacations for 7 to America, Japan, England, Rome. Working for the same company with Jaebum at the very top seat, Jinyoung and Jaebum make more money than they know what to do with, so they make it a family affair, and the seven of them never go very long without seeing each other. Im Jaebum: CEO, loving friend, donor to charity, and boyfriend to the incredible Park Jinyoung.

He’s got the entire world, and he knows it.

 

_______________________________

 

The morning after night #2 of sleeping on the couch, he leans heavily against the solid polished wood of the door to their bedroom, eyes closed. “Jinyoungie,” he says, the nickname rolling sleepily off his tongue in a way he knows Jinyoung loves. He knocks quietly, one, two, three times. “Jinyoungie, open the door, please. We have to go to work, and I need to get dressed.”

No immediate answer, but he can hear Jinyoung softly moving around the room.

“Junior,” he says, calling on an old nickname that he vowed not to use except for only in the direst of times. “Open the door.”

The door opens a fraction, and Jinyoung looks out at him from the small gap between the door and the frame. He’s trying to look affronted, but he just looks like an angry kitten, and Jaebum can’t help it—he smiles, biting back a laugh. Jinyoung notices and rolls his eyes, opening the door all the way, but Jaebum sees the smile on his face before he turns around. When he steps into the room, Jinyoung sits on the bed and watches him. He’s already dressed for work: a pale blue dress shirt with the same thin black tie he had in college tucked into black dress pants so well-fitted it’s almost criminal. His dark hair is swept to the side in a way that looks unfairly professional and sexy at once.

“Stop admiring me and get dressed, Mr. Im,” Jinyoung says, but there’s a roughness in his voice that Jaebum feels inherently attuned to. Jaebum remembers suddenly that he’s still in just his boxer briefs, his inky black hair sticking up every which way. Which, after 5 years together, he knows Jinyoung is a sucker for.

Dropping the shirt he picked up back onto the dresser, Jaebum steps forward to stand in front of Jinyoung, who looks up at him. There’s a slight flush to his features now, and Jaebum gently grips Jinyoung’s chin in one hand and holds it steady. “As your boss, Mr. Park, I think _I_ should be the one giving commands.”

Jinyoung swallows hard and Jaebum feels the movement against his knuckles. “You’re right. _Sir,”_ he tacks on at the end, with just the right amount of sarcasm to make Jaebum roll his eyes.

“Oh, you little—“ he says, and then he’s tackling Jinyoung back onto the bed, peppering his face with kisses while Jinyoung squeals and giggles like a teenager. Jaebum holds down Jinyoung’s shoulder with one hand, trailing kisses down the exposed skin of his neck, slower and slower until Jinyoung is starting to squirm. He slides his hand down across Jinyoung’s chest and down his side, coming to rest on his hip. Still sucking kisses into Jinyoung’s neck, he plays with the material where it’s tucked into the waistband of his dress pants.

“Jaebum-ah,” Jinyoung says, trying to sound disapproving but sounding winded instead. “We have to go to work.”

Jaebum pulls the material out enough to get his hand up under the shirt and onto the skin of his boyfriend’s hip, and Jinyoung sighs pleasantly at the touch. His reply of “I’ll tell your boss you’ll be late,” is muffled against Jinyoung’s neck before he bites playfully at the skin behind Jinyoung’s ear.

Jinyoung’s hand comes to rest in the small of Jaebum’s back, the warmth of it giving him goosebumps. Jinyoung shifts underneath him, a soft moan escaping when his dick brushes against Jaebum’s, both of them already hard. The sensation sends a hot stab of pleasure through Jaebum’s stomach, and then he’s leaning up to catch Jinyoung’s mouth in a searing kiss that takes them both by surprise. Jinyoung lifts his head off the bed, biting and nipping at Jaebum’s mouth while they kiss, sighs and moans escaping his open mouth as Jaebum pulls the rest of his shirt free from his pants.

“We can’t have sex right now, Jaebummie,” Jinyoung pants, not moving to stop Jaebum when he gets a hand down between them and starts to unbuckle Jinyoung’s belt. “I just took a shower and we seriously have to go to work, even though you’re the boss—oh, _God—“_

The rest of his protest is cut off when Jaebum gets his pants undone and a warm hand inside Jinyoung’s boxers, curling his fingers along his length. Jaebum knows he’s right, and Jaebum hasn’t even looked to see what time it is yet, but Jinyoung is just so downright irresistible that he’ll risk the two of them being late to feel Jinyoung come apart underneath him. Jaebum starts to move his hand, jerking Jinyoung off slow and sweet, until there’s sweat at his temples and he’s digging his blunt nails into the bare skin of Jaebum’s back. Whispered curses tumble from Jinyoung’s mouth as Jaebum speeds up, and he finds himself simultaneously rutting into the dip of Jinyoung’s hip. Every thrust of his dick against his boyfriend’s hip while he works Jinyoung toward release sends sharp spikes of pleasure through him, tiny lightening storms in his blood as he comes at the same time Jinyoung does. Jinyoung cries out when he does, one hand slapping down on the bed as his hips lift, connecting with Jaebum’s as come covers the bare skin of his stomach. Panting, Jaebum lets go and drops down to his back next to Jinyoung, who’s flushed pink from cheeks to neck, the color disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

It’s quiet for a moment, the both of them closing their eyes and calming down.

Finally, Jinyoung turns his head and looks over at Jaebum at the same time he turns to Jinyoung. “You got come on my pants, Jaebum.”

He smiles innocently. “I’m sorry.”

Laughing, Jinyoung slaps him playfully on the chest, and Jaebum catches his wrist to hold Jinyoung’s hand to his face. “No you’re not, you deviant. Now I have to change, and now we’ll both be late.”

Sitting up on one elbow, Jaebum leans down to kiss Jinyoung gently on the mouth before getting off the bed to clean himself off and get dressed. “Your boss won’t mind. I promise.”

He laughs, ducking as Jinyoung tears off his pants and launches them across the room at Jaebum’s head.

 

______________________________

 

They arrive at the office over an hour late, as predicted. Jinyoung complains the whole way, which Jaebum has to shut down with constant reminders that, technically, Jaebum is his boss and him being an hour late isn’t going to do any permanent damage to his record. Jinyoung just continues to pout in the passenger seat but doesn’t argue.

Jaebum parks in his reserved spot in the very front of the building, opening the door to an assault of cold air from the impending winter. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he waits for Jinyoung by the glass doors of the building. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, that he could technically say it’s his building—the massive, 20 story building on the edge of the condensed area of Yeouido in Seoul holds his father’s legacy that was passed down to him. It’s almost ridiculously modern—all perfectly polished glass, broken up by a lattice work of windows and some balconies toward the top; a perfectly rectangular column that isn’t quite in the thick of the Yeouido area, so it’s a little more quiet than the rest of the island. It’s hard to believe that something so massive, something almost intangible, belongs to him. The building, the massive letters that spell out IM ENTERPRISES in a dusky yellow neon at night, the view of the Han River and Seoul on the other side from behind his desk at the very top—it’s all his. He remembers the time he and his parents lost everything, living in a crammed and terrible two bedroom apartment while his father was constantly away with legal battles, fighting in court for the dignity of his name. And when he remembers those times, eating ramyun for days on end because his mother was too tired and depressed to cook anything else, he finds it hard to grasp that this is his life now. 

Jinyoung finally bounds up to him, cheeks pinked from the wind and scarf pulled tight around his throat. “Alright, lets go.”

With a small smile, Jaebum pushes open the glass doors that lead them into the massive, sprawling lobby. Much like the outside, the inside is blindingly modern and minimalist. His father was a stylish man, with infinitely more taste than Jaebum could even dream of having (and he’s no scrub, so that’s saying something about his father), so the entire building is outfitted in shades of blacks, whites, and greys, with small hints of purple so subtle that you’d miss it if you didn’t know it was there. The lobby looks like an IKEA catalogue with egg shaped white chairs lined up equidistant along both walls, perfectly rectangular glass tables, giant area rugs printed with black and white patterns so complex it hurts to look at. The offices upstairs are much the same, at least in the hallways; Jaebum told everyone when he took over that they could decorate their office however they liked, so behind the black oak doors are the manifestation of the personalities that Jaebum works with. He’d never tell anyone this, but he loves when the employees leave their doors open. Walking down an expensively decorated hallway and seeing children’s art haphazardly tacked onto the walls of the offices always makes his day a little better. 

The girl sitting behind the huge, crescent shaped front desk in the lobby smiles at them when they come in. Their shoes click quietly against the black, polished marble of the floor as they approach, Jinyoung a step behind.

“Good morning, Mr. Im,” she says, tucking her long blonde hair behind her ears before handing him and Jinyoung both cups of hot, steaming coffee.

“Good morning, Soojin,” he says, graciously accepting the coffee from her. “How are things?”

“So far, so good,” she says, the gold bracelets on her wrist jangling as she reaches over to grab a small square of paper. She hands it to Jaebum. “Eric left this for you.”

“With you?” 

Soojin rolls her eyes. “Yes, even though he’s your assistant and I’m just the receptionist. In his words, ‘you see him first thing in the mornings, so he’ll get it faster if you give it to him’. Like he can’t wait the 10 minutes it takes you to get to your office to hand it over.”

Her impression of Eric makes Jinyoung burst into laughter, and he quickly covers his mouth when it echoes through the quiet of the lobby. “Sorry,” he says, blushing a little, “but your impression of Eric is very good.”

“Thank you, Mr. Park,” Soojin beams.

Jaebum laughs as Jinyoung groans and says, “Soojin, I told you to call me Jinyoung. Mr. Park is my dad.”

“Mr. Im never has a problem with being called Mr. Im,” she says, looking at Jaebum pointedly, who holds his hands up palms out in a defensive gesture.

Without looking over, Jinyoung replies, “that’s because he has a big ego.”

This earns him a sharp elbow in the ribs, and Soojin just laughs at the two of them before picking up the ringing phone. Jaebum nudges Jinyoung forward toward the bank of elevators, slapping him none-too-gently on the back while they wait for one to arrive. “Big ego, huh?”

Jinyoung winces apologetically. “I was kidding?" 

“Sure you were,” Jaebum says, and bumps Jinyoung’s shoulder with his own before Jinyoung shuffles closer to lean on him. They wait like that, pressed together, the picture of comfort, until the elevator arrives with a ping! and the soft swish of opening doors.

“I love you,” Jinyoung says after they’ve stepped inside and pressed the buttons for their respective floors.

Jaebum starts. It’s not like Jinyoung never says it—they’ve been together for five years now, he hears it all the time, but something about the way he says it sounds… _different_. There’s something about it that maybe unsettles Jaebum a little, in a way that he’s unsure of and he can’t describe. He turns his head to look at his boyfriend, who is staring ahead at the closed doors of the elevator. Jinyoung’s face looks calm enough, and there’s the small lines at the corners of his eyes that get more pronounced when he’s stressed, but he doesn’t look sick, or nervous. 

“Jinyoungie? Are you alright?”

He watches as Jinyoung’s eyes shutter closed for a split second, his face falling into an expression that Jaebum doesn’t have time to examine. With a small smile, Jinyoung looks up at him. “Yes, Jaebum. I’m fine.”

The way he says it doesn’t sound like he’s lying, but Jaebum still can’t shake the feeling that it was a lie, anyway. He pulls Jinyoung closer to him, tucking his head under his chin. “I love you too, you know.”

Jinyoung sighs happily, and that at least sounds genuine, enough that the tightness in Jaebum’s chest loosens a little.

The elevator comes to a stop a few minutes later at Jinyoung’s floor, and Jaebum steps out with him. Regardless of them being late, Jaebum has walked Jinyoung to his office at the end of the hallway evert day for the last 3 years that Jinyoung has worked here. They chat comfortably to each other and they even stop in a few open doorways to talk to some of the other employees before they arrive at Jinyoung’s office. He swings open the door, Jaebum right behind him, and Jinyoung sets his bag down on the chair to the left of the door before turning around.

Jaebum has seen Jinyoung’s office almost every single day for the past 3 years, but even now it manages to surprise him: just like Jinyoung, it’s incredibly clean and efficient. There are a few pictures of the two of them on the walls, meticulously framed, and arranged neatly along with pictures of himself and Jackson, with Mark, and some of all seven of them on their various vacations. It would almost feel impersonal if there wasn’t a floor to ceiling bookcase along the far wall, with books neatly and haphazardly tucked into every square inch of space available on it. On the very top are Jinyoung’s prized copies of the Harry Potter series, which Jinyoung doesn’t think that Jaebum looks at when he comes in, but he totally does. Even with the lack of decorating, Jinyoung sticking to the minimalist theme throughout the rest of the building, the room feels inherently like Jinyoung’s office. It comforts him in a way that being in his own office doesn’t. 

“You do this every time you come in here,” Jinyoung says teasingly, walking behind his desk to check the telephone for messages. 

“Do what?”

“Look at everything like you’ve never seen it before.”

Jaebum just smiles at him and leans on the doorframe. “Maybe I’m just always amazed by you, every single day.” 

Blushing madly, Jinyoung launches a balled up piece of paper at him from across the room, but there’s an unmistakably happy smile on his face when he puts the phone to his ear. “Get out, you have work to do.”

“You got it, Mr. Park,” he says, and ducks out the door before Jinyoung can throw more paper at him.

 Returning to the elevator, he pushes the button for floor 19 and reaches his office a few minutes later. There aren’t very many rooms on this floor—just his, actually, preceded by a small lobby and a smaller version of the reception desk on the left. When he steps into the lobby, he can already hear Eric’s loud voice chattering away about something, and Jaebum just rolls his eyes. He loves Eric (begrudgingly), but he’s not the best assistant he’s ever had. But, for some reason, Jaebum can’t stand the thought of replacing him.

“—he used to come to my parties in college, can you believe that? And now I work directly for him, as his assistant. Crazy, right? I know!”

Jaebum comes up behind Eric, who has his back to him and his feet up on the desk, phone pressed to his ear. The person on the other line is chatteringly excitedly, loudly enough that Jaebum can hear them but can’t quite understand what they’re saying. Jaebum quietly approaches Eric and deftly removes the phone from Eric’s ear, which makes Eric squawk indignantly and flail in surprise. 

“Yes, it’s amazing, isn’t it?” Jaebum says into the phone, and the person on the other line goes dead silent. “Thank you for keeping my assistant company while I was gone, but he has work to do now. Goodbye, have a good day.”

He hangs up Eric’s phone and hands it back to him, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” Eric says, taking the phone from Jaebum and sliding it into his shirt pocket. “You’re an hour and a half late, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Something other than brag about how I used to come to your parties in college, I’m sure,” Jaebum says, cuffing Eric lightly on the back of the head.

“OW,” Eric exclaims and dramatically rubs the back of his head. “Careful with the merchandise, man.”

This just earns him an eyeroll. Removing his coat, Jaebum moves toward his office door. “Any messages for me?”

“Yes,” Eric calls, and as Jaebum hangs his coat on the rack in the corner he can hear Eric rustling through some papers on his desk. Which, without even looking at it, Jaebum knows is a mess. Eric is always on time, great at setting up appointments, taking his messages, but he’s terribly organized. It makes him more endearing. “Kim Donghyun called this morning and left a message for you.”

Jaebum sticks his head out of his office door in alarm. “What was the message?” 

Eric rifles through more papers before finding a small pink square and holding it up with a triumphant noise. “It says he wants to get lunch to talk about plans, and the company.” 

“When?”

“Today. At 1:30.”

Jaebum checks his watch: 11:45 AM. “Shit. Thanks, Eric. Take my calls for a little while, won’t you? If anyone needs me, I’m busy.” 

“You got it.”

He gives Eric an appreciative nod before disappearing into his office, closing the door behind him. 

Jaebum sits down at his desk, looking at the assorted papers spread across the polished oak surface before turning around in his chair. He admires the view of the Han River for a moment, the floor to ceiling windows taking up the entire back wall of his office in a way that offers him a massive amount of natural light and a stunning view of Seoul on the opposite bank. He’s not always entirely happy to be working, but he loves being in his office, especially with a view this spectacular. The rest of his office is just as magnificent, with a leather couch along one wall (that’s he’s definitely spent a few nights on working late, much to Jinyoung’s dismay), and ornately decorated chairs that sit directly across from his desk. Opposite of the couch on the other side of the room is a long, beautiful table made of the same dark, polished wood of his desk with matching chairs pushed in that he uses for important meetings. Not that he would ever tell another soul this in his life, but he’s definitely suggested many times to Jinyoung that it would be a nice table to bend him over on, but each proposal is met with sputtering refusal.

With a nervous sigh, Jaebum turns on the computer at his desk and waits for it to boot up, anxiously bouncing his leg. He’s been speaking to Kim Donghyun for months now, trying to persuade him to buy stock in their company, but the older man has obstinately refused until this point. Not only is Kim Donghyun one of Jaebum’s old role models from when he was taking business classes in college, but he’s also one of the richest men in South Korea, and highly respected to boot. He’s at the head seat of KBS, and owns stock in over half of the companies across South Korea, including some of the Western businesses on the Fortune 500 list. Im Enterprises is in no way in danger of collapsing without Mr. Kim’s investment, but Jaebum understands what a huge boost it could be for the company if he does decide to invest. Jaebum starts to think being an hour late wasn’t the best idea, after all.

Nervously, Jaebum scans through his email after his computer settles, and replies almost mechanically to the ones he sees that he can answer right away without putting much effort into. After a few minutes of this, there’s a soft knock on the door and Eric sticks his head in.

“Jaebum,” he says, unwaveringly informal. “Mr. Kim is on line one for you.”

He nods, swallowing uneasily, “Thanks Eric.”

Eric disappears again, closing the door quietly behind him. Picking the phone off the hook, he presses it to his ear and hits the button for line one. “Im Jaebum.”

“Mr. Im, it’s Donghyun.” The older man’s voice is pleasant sounding, rough with age, and Jaebum feels a little bit less stressed out at the lack of any heat in his voice.” 

“Hello, Mr. Kim, how are you?”

With a soft laugh, the older man says, “Please, call me Donghyun, it’s quite alright. I’m doing well, actually. I have been eager to talk to you today. Your assistant told me that you were running late this morning, is everything alright?”

Jaebum sputters a little, unsure what to say since the real reason he was late was because he was getting his boyfriend off when they should have been getting ready to go to work. “Ah, yes, everything’s fine. Just had some things to take care of before I came in this morning, but everything is alright. I’m glad to hear from you—my assistant Eric told me that you would like to have lunch today?”

“Yes, I did,” he says, and Jaebum can hear him rustling on the other end of the phone. “Would that be alright? I told Erin 1:30.”

“Eric,” Jaebum corrects absentmindedly, and moves on before either of them can dwell on the fact that Jaebum just corrected Kim Donghyun. “But, yes, 1:30 is alright. Where would you like to go?”

“There’s this small place right next to the KBS building that has wonderful kimchi. We could meet there, if you don’t mind making the trip.”

“Not at all, sir,” Jaebum says, and the nervousness in his gut ratchets up a notch. “I’ll meet you there at 1:30.”

“Great,” Donghyun says, clearing his throat quietly before continuing. “Bring your best business plan for me to take a look at.” The line clicks off, and Jaebum has to wipe the receiver of sweat before placing it back on the hook.

Looking at the time, he sees that it’s nearing 12:45 and he better start packing up if he wants to get there on time. Yeouido traffic can get messy during this time of day, with bank workers and department heads getting lunch, and just the general hustle and bustle of afternoon traffic. He’s putting his coat back on when the line on his desk starts to ring.

“Im Jaebum,” he says, cradling the phone between his neck and ear as he struggles to get one of his arms back into his jacket.

“Hi,” Jinyoung says, and immediately Jaebum feels some of the tension in his body ease a little. 

“Jinyoungie. What are you doing?” he asks, hoping that the small distraction of knowing what Jinyoung is up to takes away more of his stress.

“Just checking emails, for now. I’ve made all the calls I was supposed to make, but Mr. Lee and Mr. Bhang were already out of the office for the day so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to speak with them. Your assistant keeps IMing me.”

Jaebum laughs, sitting down in his chair when he finally gets his coat on. “I knew getting that in-office IMing service was a terrible idea.”

Jinyoung snorts, and Jaebum can hear the faint _clack clack clack_ of keys as Jinyoung types. “For him, yes. It’s actually pretty convenient. Smart move, Mr. Im.”

“But not for Eric?” 

Eric sticks his head in the door, eyes narrowed, and Jaebum grins at him. Quickly, Jaebum pushes the speaker button on the phone just in time for Eric to hear Jinyoung say, “definitely not for Eric.”

“Hey!” He squawks, looking like he’s about to come into the room and throw the phone from the window before Jaebum shoos him out with a quick flap of his hand.

“Anyway,” Jinyoung says, still typing away at his computer some floors down from Jaebum. “Are we still getting lunch? There’s that really good place I want to go to—“

Immediately, guilt slides its way into Jaebum’s stomach. “Ah, actually, Jinyoungie, something came up.” 

The clacking of Jinyoung’s keyboard stops momentarily, before starting up again. “Have another business meeting?”

“Yes, with Mr. Kim. He called me just a few minutes ago. We’re having lunch at 1:30, he wants to talk business with me. Finally.”

“Hmm.” 

“Are you upset?”

He hears Jinyoung sigh heavily. “I shouldn’t be. This is how it always is. You’re a busy man, I should know that already.”

“But you are, aren’t you,” It’s not a question.

“I’m not surprised.”

Jaebum feels a flash of anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Exactly what you think it means” Jinyoung replies hotly, and the typing finally stops. “I’m just not surprised you have another business lunch to go to. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve cancelled on me, Jaebum. I understand.”

“Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?” 

The tension in Jaebum’s body returns, pulling his nerves thin and taut like a wire. “Like you’re pissed off at me. Saying ‘I’m not surprised’.”

“Because I’m _not_ surprised,” Jinyoung says, without any heat, but it makes Jaebum mad anyway. “I didn’t mean it maliciously.”

“So you are pissed off at me, then.” 

They’ve been together for so long and fought so many times that Jaebum can almost visualize the way Jinyoung closes his eyes and drops his head. “I didn’t say that.”

He doesn’t like fighting with Jinyoung, he never has (except maybe when they were growing up and still hated each other and the look of defeat or agony on Jinyoung’s face brought him some sick sort of pleasure, but being together for so long and loving Jinyoung as much as he does, those memories make him feel ill), but the same feeling he got in the elevator when Jinyoung said “I love you” in a strange way that he didn’t understand creeps up on him again. Jinyoung doesn’t like to fight, either, but he’s never this passive. Something about it rubs Jaebum the wrong way and fractures against his already thin nerves.

“But you didn’t deny it, either, Jinyoung. If you’re mad, just say so.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says, and the almost serene calm in which he says it drives Jaebum up the wall; he knows Jinyoung is lying. “I’m just not surprised.” 

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” Jinyoung says, exasperation coloring his voice. “I’m not angry, Jaebum. This isn’t the first time you’ve cancelled and it won’t be the last. I get it. You have business to attend to.” 

Jaebum clutches the phone in his hand a little tighter, slowly coming undone with anger. “You keep saying ‘I’m not surprised’ in that annoying, passive way you do when you’re actually really mad but don’t want to say so. Just say it, Jinyoung, you’re angry at me for cancelling on you.”

"Oh my god,” Jinyoung says, and this time he sounds genuinely angry. It almost feels like relief to Jaebum, to hear something except that horrible passiveness in Jinyoung’s voice. “I’m not pissed off about you cancelling, Jaebum, but I’m going to get there if you don’t stop acting like this. We can get lunch together another day. It’s fine.”

Almost as if he’s afraid that Jinyoung will slip back into that strange passiveness, Jaebum goads him on. “Why is getting lunch with me so important to you? We live together, and we have dinner together almost every night. You see me all the time, you can’t not have lunch with me for one day?”

Obviously angry now, Jinyoung takes the bait. “It would be different if it was one time, Jaebum, but it isn’t. You’ve been spending way more time at the office lately, coming home late, and I see you for a few hours before we both go to sleep. It would be different it this was a one time thing, but it’s not. You’ve cancelled our lunch plans every day for the past 3 weeks. Is it not enough that I love you and I want to spend time with you? Do I need to be your business partner to see you at lunch now? Or am I only allowed to see you when we’re at home, where I’m just your boyfriend and not your employee?”

Jaebum is silenced by the tirade, and he can hear the quiet heaving of Jinyoung’s breath on the other line. He wasn’t expecting this much of a response, just a quick report of Jinyoung’s sharp tongue, but the real, unadulterated anger that accompanies his answer has Jaebum feeling like he’s missed something. “Jinyoung, I—“ 

“You should get going. It’s already one, and if it’s in the middle of the district you’re going to be late.”

And then he hangs up.

Jaebum can only stare at the phone in his hand for a minute, the buzzing of the dial tone matching the confused buzzing in his ears over what just happened. Eric sticks his head in the door again without knocking. “Jaebum, there’s a car downstairs for you. Hurry or you’ll be late for your lunch with Mr. Kim.”

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Jaebum puts the phone down and picks up his briefcase. “Thank, Eric,” he says, patting him on the back before he heads downstairs in the elevator. 

The hard thump of his heart against his ribs doesn’t cease, even as the nervousness returns as he slides into the car to meet Mr. Kim.

 

_________________________________

 

By the time their lunch is over, Jaebum has completely forgotten about his earlier spat with Jinyoung.

The deal went over amazingly, and Jaebum feels like he’s on top of the world—after completely laying out his business plans for Donghyun, explaining where their money goes and how their manufacturing centers operate, Donghyun asked a million questions. Jaebum had an answer for each, carefully thought out and detailed enough that none of them needed a follow up. It was about an hour and a half later and halfway through another explanation when Donghyun held up a hand and said, “I think I’ve heard enough, Mr. Im. I’m going to invest.”

It’s a huge step forward for himself and the business, and even though the rest of their friends aren’t employed there, Jaebum sends them all a text in their group chat telling them the good news. Yugyeom texts back "i knew you'd get it, dummy", which doesn't surprise him at all. Jaebum rolls his eyes at Yugyeom’s reply and shoves his phone back in his pocket, waiting anxiously for the car to come back around to take him back to the office. He spends the wait and the car ride back bouncing his leg, excited to find Jinyoung and tell him the good news. When the car finally drops him off outside the building, he practically runs in the doors, meeting Soojin with a huge grin on his face.

“I take it went well?” she asks, already smiling back at him. 

He offers her a high five, and she slaps his palm with her own. “Hell yeah, it did. We have a meeting this weekend over dinner to settle everything and have him sign some papers.”

“Great job, Mr. Im!” she calls after him, and he offers her a thumbs up over his shoulder as he jogs to the elevators. He pushes the button for Jinyoung’s floor, and he paces along the mirrored wall while the elevator takes him up. Finally the elevator doors open, and he’s bounding down the hallway and bursting through the door of Jinyoung’s office, who looks up in alarm.

“Jaebum?”

He just grins madly, and Jinyoung looks at him in concern. “I did it,” he says finally, when Jinyoung doesn’t catch on. “I sealed the deal with Donghyun. He’s gonna invest.” 

Jinyoung smiles at him from where he’s still seated at his desk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Jaebum doesn’t notice. “That’s great, Jaebummie. I’m proud of you.”

Crossing the room in a few strides, Jaebum comes around the desk and picks Jinyoung up by the arms, planting a huge kiss directly on his mouth. Jinyoung squirms, hands pushing against Jaebum’s chest. When Jaebum finally puts him down, Jinyoung’s face is pink all the way down to his neck and to the tips of his ears. “The door is still open.”

Jaebum just brushes his knuckles across the blush on Jinyoung’s cheek, which makes him go impossibly redder. “It’s been 3 years. I think they all know by now.”

Jinyoung grabs his wrist and holds his hand still, softening a little. “I know.”

“So don’t be so shy,” Jaebum teases, leaning in to kiss Jinyoung on the cheek. “And we’ll go to lunch tomorrow. I swear it.”

“Alright,” Jinyoung says, and smiles, and Jaebum still doesn’t notice the hesitance behind it.

 

________________________________

 

The process is pretty much the same for the next few days: they wake up, fool around, are almost late to work, part ways at Jinyoung’s office, and set to work. Jaebum makes good on his promise to take Jinyoung to lunch the day after the deal with Donghyun goes through. They go to the place that Jinyoung wanted to go to, some fancy new place just around the corner from where the Im Enterprises building is. It’s tiny, with more space on the patio than inside. Jinyoung opts to sit inside, away from the cold, and he picks a table near the window so that the sunlight hits their table enough to keep them warm but not blinding them. It’s cozy in the little cafe, decked out in warm browns and reds, with a bit of a down home country-ish theme that’s so popular in the states. The tablecloth laid out over their small, oval table is a tattered, checkered red and white thing, worn soft in some places that Jinyoung can’t seem to stop touching. Jaebum orders for the both of them while Jinyoung seems content to look out the window, hands in his lap and watching the midafternoon traffic.

“How’d the phone call with Mr. Lee go?” Jaebum asks after he thanks their server and she leaves, blushing and whispering to the other girls at the counter about him.

“Hmm?” Jinyoung says, looking over after a moment, as if he didn’t hear him at first. “Oh, it went alright. It was fine.” 

Jaebum waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Yeah? It was just alright?”

Jinyoung nods, and then seems to decide he should be more specific. “He was very nice. He seemed like he was genuinely interested, so that’s a good sign. I was able to set up a meeting with him with one of the merchandising executives for next week, and he thinks it will go well. So we’ll see.” 

“Good,” Jaebum nods, smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

Jinyoung smiles at him, a little more genuinely this time. “Thank you.”

After that, Jinyoung starts to talk a little more, although Jaebum doesn’t notice that he was being uncharacteristically silent before. He brushes off Jinyoung’s reluctance to tell him about Mr. Lee as him not wanting Jaebum to worry about work while they’re trying to have lunch together. His phone goes off while Jinyoung is telling him about something funny that BamBam had said to him the day before, and Jaebum glances down to check it. It’s from Eric. 

_still at lunch with your gf?_

Jaebum rolls his eyes. Eric loves Jinyoung more than he wants to admit, so he hides behind it by mercilessly teasing him. _Yes, actually. Why?_

He suddenly gets nervous, hoping that nothing major happened at the office while they’ve been gone, especially if it has to do with the Donghyun deal. He half-listens to Jinyoung’s story as he waits for Eric’s answer, which comes a few minutes later:

_Donghyun called right after you left for lunch. Wants to set-up your meeting for this weekend._

He sends a text back. _Okay. Set it up for me, please._

Eric’s reply comes more quickly this time. _Do you have anything important going on this weekend?_

It’s not an odd question, and as Jaebum’s assistant, it’s nice of him to ask. He thinks about it for a moment—it’s the middle of December, and Christmas is coming up soon, but he doesn’t think that there’s anything terribly important going on in the next couple of weeks that can’t wait or be rescheduled. He checks the calendar on his phone to be sure, and the weekend is open as far as he knows. Jaebum, still only half listening to Jinyoung, nods and hmms in all the right places (or so he hopes, but he pushes the thought from his mind as soon as it comes) while he sends Eric another text. _Don’t think so. Go ahead and set it up for 8pm on Saturday, please._

_Are you sure?_

That’s an odd question, and Jaebum texts back a curious _Yes, why?_ before realizing that Jinyoung’s voice has gotten significantly louder.

“—so we were all having a foursome in our bedroom last weekend, Mark was all over the place, honestly, didn’t know where to put it—“ 

Jaebum jerks back in his chair, the other patrons and some of the wait staff openly staring at them. He leans in, shushing Jinyoung frantically, who’s red in the face. “Jinyoung! What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’d know if you’d been paying attention the last 15 minutes, wouldn’t you?”

Jaebum winces. “I’m sorry. It’s Eric. It was—“

“—a business thing.” Jinyoung sighs, losing his edge and seeming to deflate in his chair. Jaebum’s eyebrows stitch together in worry as Jinyoung just turns toward the window, looking tired. “I know.”

“I’m sorry. What were you talking about?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Jinyoung just gives a sharp laugh that doesn’t sound much like real laughter. “It doesn’t matter. What did Eric want?”

His phone chimes again with another text from Eric, as if he’d been summoned. _The deed is done._

He shoots back a quick _Thanks, Eric_ before putting his phone away in his pocket. “Had to set up another meeting with Donghyun over dinner so that we can get the papers signed and go over some things before he does.”

“Mmm,” Jinyoung says, offhandedly like he’s disinterested. It stings a little, and Jaebum can feel the hurt dissolving into anger at Jinyoung’s dismissal. Before he can snap at him their food arrives, steaming bowls of soup and noodles enough for four people instead of two. Jinyoung thanks the waitress with a blinding smile, one that Jaebum realizes with a jolt that he hasn’t seen in a while. He wonders why Jinyoung hasn’t smiled like that recently—could he really be stressed out about work? He has a lower position than Jaebum does, so his workload isn’t nearly as big as Jaebum’s. Jinyoung does do damage control in the press a lot, and being their HR guy can be pretty stressful at times, he supposes. Jaebum wonders if anyone has been increasingly obnoxious in the offices lately that might cause someone to cause an uproar in HR.

After eating in silence for a moment, Jinyoung looks up at him from over his bowl of noodles. “So, how do you think the meeting with Donghyun is going to go? Well?”

Jaebum nods. “I would hope so. He seemed really happy at lunch the day he decided to invest, and our business plans haven’t changed since then so I think he’ll still be on board. We’ll see this weekend.”

Jinyoung freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his open mouth. “This weekend?”

Oblivious, Jaebum continues, nodding before putting more soup in his mouth. “Yeah, Saturday at 8. There’s some Japanese place downtown in Seoul that he’s heard is really good.”

“This Saturday? Oh, Jaebum, you didn’t.”

The absolute devastation in Jinyoung’s voice finally makes him look up. Jinyoung’s dropped his chopsticks on the table, hands in his lap and his face paper-white and ill looking. Alarmed, Jaebum reaches across the table for him but Jinyoung moves back, looking wounded. “What do you mean? What’s the matter? Are you alright? Jesus, Jinyoungie, you look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Jinyoung just stares at him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched so tight it looks painful. It’s the face he makes when he’s trying not to cry, and suddenly there’s a sinking feeling in Jaebum’s chest. “What, Jinyoung? What’s wrong?”

When Jinyoung finally speaks, it’s a whisper, so broken and sad that it pierces Jaebum’s heart like a thousand arrows. “You forgot our anniversary, didn’t you?” 

Oh, fuck. _Fuck._

“Oh, Jinyoungie, no, of course I didn’t,” he rambles, reaching across again only to have Jinyoung scoot back his entire chair out of his reach. He looks miserable, face drained of color and his dark eyes swimming with tears. He knows that Jaebum is lying, and that he did totally forget, but Jaebum tries to keep going. “I didn’t forget, I swear, Donghyun just called today while we were out, and you know how it is,” he laughs nervously, and Jinyoung just closes his eyes, which makes Jaebum’s panic spike. It’s never a good sign when Jinyoung does that. “He wanted to do dinner at 8 on Saturday, but I had something else planned, anyway, it’s going to be amazing—“

“What is it?”

The flat, utterly dead note in Jinyoung’s voice makes Jaebum’s heart stop. “What?”

“What did you have planned?” 

“I—I didn’t want to tell you, it’s a surprise—“

It’s finally enough. With a noise of disgust, Jinyoung pushes up out of his chair so fast he almost knocks it over. Steadying it with one hand, Jaebum can see that he’s gripping it so hard his knuckles are white. Jinyoung gets angry sometimes, just like everyone does—Jaebum’s no stranger to anger either, as it’s always been his first response to something instead of processing anything correctly. But even when Jinyoung was grieving Jackson and was angry all the time, he was never this angry. Jaebum honestly doesn’t know that he himself has been this angry—it’s positively radiates off Jinyoung in waves. It’s in the way he’s standing, back so straight he looks like a statue, the wood of the chair under his hand probably close to cracking with how hard he’s got a hold on it. Jaebum looks up into his eyes and almost wants to cower under the force of Jinyoung’s gaze—it’s fire, pure fire, and Jaebum doesn’t think he’s ever been this afraid of Jinyoung’s anger before. Jaebum reaches up, trying to grab at Jinyoung’s wrist, but he jerks it back and bares his teeth like a rabid dog.

“Don’t,” he says, and the anger in the one word sounds like a full sentence. _Don’t touch me, you fucked up big time._

Jinyoung finally moves, reaching into his front pocket and leaning down to pick his bag up off the floor. Jaebum reaches for him again, his own face drained of color and so terrified of what Jinyoung is going to do he can’t think straight. “Jinyoungie, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ 

Jinyoung jerks back again out of reach and savagely throws money on the table. “Don’t bother,” he spits, “I’ll see you at home.” Then he’s shoving his wallet back in his pocket and storming out the front door without a backward glance.

With a growing sense of dread, Jaebum watches out the window as Jinyoung stands on the street outside and hails a taxi, slamming the door of it so hard the entire vehicle shakes. He watches it until it goes around the corner and out of sight, and then Jaebum is dropping his head into his hands in misery. He’s never forgotten their anniversary before, not in the entire five years they’ve been dating. It’s not even hard to remember—it’s always right before Christmas, because it was during winter break that day in college that Jinyoung showed up at his dorm and kissed him. In the five years they’ve been together, he’s never forgotten. They go on trips, do huge dinners, have lots of sex. He’s done a lot of annoying things while they’ve been together, like forgotten to do laundry or the dishes when Jinyoung asks him to, or forgets to check the mail when Jinyoung is expecting something important, or forgets to feed Nora. But he’s never forgotten their anniversary. Not until today.

The most horrible thing about it is that he’s not even really sure that he forgot—business has been so good lately, with so much going on and so much to do that he just…pushed it aside in his head. He’s making more money than even Jinyoung’s parents ever made, and he’s so determined to make his father proud that everything else seemed to come second.

Even, it seems, Jinyoung.

Which he doesn’t want to be true, but there’s a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach as he pays for their lunch that it is, to some extent. He’s loved Jinyoung practically his entire life, even though for the better part of their formative years it was covered up by layers and layers of hate and self-loathing and bitterness that comes from being pressured to end up with a girl when you’re not even sure that you like girls, really. It was buried under the pressure their parents put on the both of them to do better than the other, even if they didn’t mean it that way, that’s how it came off, so they were always competing. But even then, even in those days, Jaebum never forgot something important like Jinyoung’s birthday, and every year he went out of his way to cease fire and be, in whatever way he could, kind to him. And when they finally got together after so many years of fighting, and after seeing the way that Jackson’s absence positively destroyed him, Jaebum had promised that he wasn’t ever going to be the cause of that kind of pain for the man he loved so much. 

But sometimes promises get broken.

 

 **JINYOUNG**  
**_________________________**

 

In the cab on his way back to their apartment, Jinyoung pulls out his cellphone with shaking hands. He drops it on the floor of the cab, cursing at himself. He dials a number and puts the phone up to his ear, eyes closing against the tears that threaten to fall. 

“Hi, Jinyoungie,” Jackson says, and his voice sounds calm, pleasant, and Jinyoung almost feels like he can breathe again.

“Jackson,” is all he manages to say, his voice cracking halfway through his name. The tears come then, unbidden, and he can’t seem to stop them. The cab driver looks alarmed but doesn’t comment on it. 

“Jinyoung? Jinyoung, what’s the matter?” Jackson sounds worried now, and Jinyoung can’t manage to stop crying long enough to give him an answer. “Jinyoung!” 

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he says, trying to hold back, stuttering and hiccuping over the words, all of them coming out broken and pieced together like doing a puzzle blind. “I’m just—just, I can’t, Jackson—he, he—he forgot—“ 

“Jesus, Jinyoung, who?” 

“Jaebum! Jaebum forgot our anniversary, Jackson! He _forgot!”_

He practically screams it, and the force leaves his throat feeling scraped and raw, so the tears that keep coming just burn and burn and burn. Jackson goes silent for a moment, while Jinyoung just sobs into the phone, head leaned back agains the seat and his arm thrown over his eyes. It’s embarrassing—he’s never liked crying in front of anyone, not even Jaebum or Jackson, but it’s worse crying in front of strangers, and he for damn sure never meant to have a breakdown in the back of a taxi cab. He tries to remind himself to apologize and give him a large tip, but the thought flutters senselessly out of his mind before he can hold onto it for long.

“He forgot? What do you mean? He never forgets—“

“I know, he—he doesn’t, he never h—has, but after blowing me off f—for—for weeks we finally went to lunch and—and he told me he scheduled a dinner with a c—cllient—“

“Jinyoungie,” Jackson says calmly, voice like honey. “You have to calm down, okay? You have to calm down a little bit.” 

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jinyoung forcefully wipes the arm of his coat across his eyes and wills himself to stop crying. The tears don’t stop coming, but he can at least speak more freely, without having to hiccup or pause every couple of words to sob. “We were at lunch, and he’s been—been blowing me off for weeks for lunch, for clients and s—stuff. So we finally went to lunch today and he was telling me about a client he has t—that’s super important—“

“Kim Donghyun, right? From KBS?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, taking another shuddering breath before continuing. “And in the most nonchalant way, he said he had dinner plans with him this weekend to go over things before they sign the paperwork. Just like he didn’t even realize what d—day it was. And then when I confronted him about it, he said of course he didn’t forget, he had something else p—planned. So I asked him and he just kept lying about it. I can’t—I can’t wrap my head around it. Five years and he’s never forgotten.”

Jackson sighs heavily, which isn’t comforting. “Where are you right now?”

“In a cab, on my way home.”

“From where?” 

Jinyoung sighs. “From Yeouido. From work.”

“Jinyoung, why a cab? That’s going to be so expensive.”

“I can afford it,” he snaps, angrily wiping tears from his face again with the sleeve of his coat.

“Hey,” Jackson warns. “I’m not the one you’re upset at, and you called me. Remember?”

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says, and he suddenly feels exhausted. His head hurts, his eyes hurt, his chest hurts. “I’ve never been this upset at him before, Jackson. I just can’t believe he forgot, he never forgets—“ his breath hitches, and he swallows the words down before another onslaught of tears. His face is throbbing, probably swollen and disgustingly red, and he desperately searches through his bag for some tissues to wipe his face with instead of using the sleeve of his coat again, the stiff material rough and painful against his sensitive skin. 

“I know, hey, I know. It’ll be alright, though. Do you think he’s going to come home right away?”

Jinyoung just closes his eyes and leans his head against the window, holding the phone to his ear with all the strength he’s got left. “I don’t know. I doubt it. He’ll have to go back to the office anyway to get his things, so that’s at least an hour and a half, two hours.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

He thinks about it, opening his eyes to watch the hustle and bustle of downtown Seoul as they pass through it on the way to Jinyoung and Jaebum’s apartment. “No,” he says finally. “I think I need to be alone for right now, so I can collect myself for when he comes home.”

“Alright,” Jackson says, and Jinyoung doesn’t miss the worried note in his tone. “But call me if you change or mind, or if you need anything, okay? It’s going to be alright.”

“We’ll see.”

He hangs up, sliding his phone back into his pocket and continuing to look out the window. Jinyoung can feel the cab driver looking at him in the rear view mirror ever so often and, usually, Jinyoung loves to talk to the cab drivers; loves asking about their lives and their families and what they’ve been doing that day, but today is not a day that he feels like conversating. The cab driver seems to understand, so he focuses on the road until they pull up outside the apartment building.

“We’re here,” he says kindly, and Jinyoung nods. Pulling out his wallet, Jinyoung hands him way too much money and the cab driver tries to refuse it, saying that it’s too much.

“No, please take it,” Jinyoung insists, holding it out to him over the seat that divides the car. “You don’t get paid to deal with screaming and crying in your cab all day. It’s the least I can do, please.”

Reluctantly the cab driver takes it, and they both thank each other before Jinyoung steps out and heads inside. The doorman looks up when he walks in, starting to smile before dropping it in surprise at the look on Jinyoung’s face.

“Mr. Park,” he says, pushing his uniform hat back a little further on his head, looking up at Jinyoung from where he’s sitting behind his small desk. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Jinyoung says, and offers him a small smile. “Could you do me a favor, though?”

“Anything, Mr. Park.”

“Could you buzz the apartment when Jaebum comes in? I’m not going to answer or anything, I just want to know when he’s on his way up. Can you do that?”

Their doorman, a nice, older man that Jinyoung respects immensely, looks at him with concern under thick grey eyebrows. “Of course, I’ll be sure to buzz the intercom when he’s headed up. Is everything okay?”

“Everything will be fine. Just buzz me. Thank you,” he says, bowing politely before heading to the elevator.

Standing in the ornately decorated elevator on the way to their shared apartment, Jinyoung feels like he’s going to cry again. He pushes the heels of both hands into his eyes, willing the tears to go away; he needs to sit down and collect himself before Jaebum comes home and they have to talk about this. Jinyoung keeps his fists pushed into his eyes until the elevator dings and the doors open to their floor. The hallway is quiet as he walks down it, the plush carpeting a welcome relief from the stark, uncomfortable carpeting of the Im Enterprises building. He unlocks the door to their apartment and enters in the security code, turning the handle when the lock beeps and flashes green. Upon opening the door, he hears Nora meow pitifully from somewhere in the apartment and he can feel himself relax, just a little. Putting his bag down by the door and taking off his coat and shoes, he puts them away before he flips on the light and steps down into the living room to find Nora.

She’s perched on the back of their orange leather couch, giant green eyes following him as he approaches her. “Hi, Nora,” he says quietly, putting his hand out and letting her come to him. She pads along the back of the couch up to him, bumping her small head against the palm of his hand and purring softly. Taking a deep breath, he comes around the other side and sits down on the couch, letting Nora settle onto his lap. Jinyoung doesn’t do anything for a while—he just sits with his eyes closed, petting Nora and letting some of her calm energy bleach out the negative one inside himself. The TV stays off, instead listening to the white noise of Seoul traffic hurrying past beneath him. 

Unwillingly, he falls asleep, and when he opens his eyes again, the sky outside their sliding glass door is pink and purple with twilight. Blinking sleepily, he realizes that Nora has abandoned her post on his lap and is now eagerly pacing by the door, meowing. Checking his watch, Jinyoung looks down to see that it’s almost 6:30 right as the buzzer sounds on their intercom. He jumps before remember he asked their doorman to buzz their apartment when Jaebum is on his way up. His heart sinks a little, wishing that he would have stayed awake long enough to think of what to say to Jaebum when he came home instead of giving into the exhaustion that crying had caused him. He checks his phone to see a number of missed called from Jaebum, all within the last hour or so while he’s been asleep. Absentmindedly he deletes them, and then leans back into the couch to scroll through his phone just for something to do with his hands.

A few minutes later there’s the sound of a key in the lock, and the hurried input of a code on a keypad outside before the lock is springing open. Nora’s meows get louder as Jaebum opens the door, quietly cursing under his breath as he almost trips over her. Putting his things down, he immediately comes over and sits beside Jinyoung on the couch, coat still on.

“Jinyoung,” he says softly, and there’s a hint of desperation that makes Jinyoung look up at him. “Jinyoung, where have you been?”

It was the wrong thing to ask. He could have started this any other way, with “I’m sorry”, or “I love you”, but instead he wants to know where he’s been. Jinyoung feels the heat in his face as he locks his phone and lets it drop into his lap. “Here. I’ve been here.”

“Since when?” Jaebum asks, and he sounds vaguely out of breath, like he’d run up the 10 flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. “I called you a bunch but you didn’t answer.”

“I was here, Jaebum,” he says, voice flat. “I fell asleep on the couch.”

“Oh.”

It’s quiet between the two of them, Jinyoung looking at him defiantly as Jaebum visibly tries to find the right words.

“I’m sorry, Jinyoungie,” he finally says. “I’m so sorry.”

The look on Jaebum’s face is so sad, so hurt, and it breaks Jinyoung’s resolve a bit. He softens, so fucking weak for Jaebum, unable to be angry at him when he looks so upset at himself. It doesn’t make it right, and Jinyoung is still angry with him, but he thinks that they can make it through this conversation without arguing with each other. “I hope so. I can’t believe that you forgot, Jaebum.”

“I didn’t forget,” he says, and Jinyoung is about to get angry again when he continues, “but I definitely pushed it away. I wasn’t even thinking about it. And I’m so sorry. I already called Donghyun and told him that we have to reschedule.”

Jinyoung wants this to comfort him, but it doesn’t. He knows that Kim Donghyun can be a difficult man, and Jaebum rescheduling a dinner like this so soon after the plans were made won’t look good to him.

“And what did he say?” Jinyoung asks, expecting the worst but hoping for something good.

Jaebum’s face falls a little. “He said that’s fine, but he’s going to rethink the deal if that happens. I told him that this was really important, and that I wouldn’t reschedule unless I absolutely had to. Which I did.”

“So?”

“He and I are having dinner next weekend, on the 20th. He said he’s not sure he wants to go through anymore, since he can’t trust someone who reschedules on such short notice, but he knew my father and he respects me so he thinks we might be able to make it work. I’m all yours this weekend. I even took tomorrow off so that we can spend the entire weekend together. Where do you want to go?”

And, just like that, Jinyoung’s anger disappears. This is an entirely different Jaebum than the one that he knew growing up, the one that he got into fist fights with on the soccer field, that tried to undermine him at every twist and turn. That Jaebum was only worried about himself, where his next move would get him, and he would have rather died than let a good opportunity slip by him, no matter at what expense. But this, this Jaebum now, Jinyoung realizes, is entirely different—he passed up the opportunity with the client of a lifetime because he knew that spending their anniversary together and with their friends was miles more important than sitting down for 2 hours on a Saturday night to talk business. He has to remind himself that this Jaebum has infinitely more responsibility than the Jaebum he started dating in college—he has an entire company to take care of, employees to pay, people to care about, and he does care about them. It’s a lot. And Jinyoung knows that business has been getting bigger lately—he’s been hearing whispers from Eric (though with Eric it’s more like shouting quietly) that they’re going to open a plant in America, somewhere in New York, and that would be huge. So he gets it. But sometimes, even through all of the wondrous things things that Jaebum does and the way he shows that he cares, Jinyoung always lives with the creeping realization that as time goes on and the business gets bigger, he becomes more and more a second priority. And that terrifies him. He’s never put anything before Jaebum, not even himself. He can’t imagine a life where Jaebum isn’t the most important thing. He just hopes that Jaebum feels the same way about him. It hurts him, somewhere deep where he can’t quite understand it yet, that he has to wonder about it.

“Hey,” Jaebum says, gently snapping his fingers in front of Jinyoung’s face, bringing him back to the present conversation. “Earth to Jinyoung.”

“Sorry,” he says, feeling his face turn red.

“Am I forgiven?” Jaebum says, eyes cast low and gently running his knuckles along Jinyoung’s jawline.

“For now,” Jinyoung says, and even as he offers a small smile when Jaebum laughs quietly before getting up to answer his pinging cellphone, Jinyoung isn’t entirely sure that he’s kidding.

 

 

 **JAEBUM**  
**________________________**

 

Their anniversary weekend is almost, almost perfect.

Jaebum lets Jinyoung decide where he wants to go, and when Jinyoung decides that he wants to stay home all weekend, Jaebum is just fine with that. Jinyoung could have said that he wants to go to LA for the weekend and he would have been fine with that, too, but something about staying in the apartment that they share together for their anniversary really makes him feel warm inside. 

So they spend all weekend indoors, watching their favorite movies and cooking each other huge, elaborate dinners. Saturday night they have everyone over, and it almost feels like they’re celebrating a holiday. It’s amazing how loud their house gets when they get all seven of them in it, but it’s noise that Jaebum loves to hear, and by the smile plastered on Jinyoung’s face all weekend, he loves it too. Jackson and Mark both make disgustingly sappy speeches before dinner that night, which prompts Yugyeom to throw a piece of broccoli at Jackson’s head, which makes BamBam almost pass out from laughter at the table and Youngjae to look like he’s going to have a heart attack. They all laugh for hours, talking about old times and the recent trips they’ve taken. Yugyeom and Jinyoung end up in a wrestling match on the floor of the living room that ends suddenly when Yugyeom accidentally slams Jinyoung’s head against the table.

Jinyoung just bounces right up, slapping Yugyeom playfully on the back of the head, and they all cheer when Yugyeom has the decency to look cowed. It’s around midnight when they finally all leave, and Jinyoung looks like he’s going to fall asleep on his feet as he stands wrapped up in a blanket in the living room while Jaebum sees them all out.

“Tired?” Jaebum asks, brushing his knuckles across Jinyoung’s jaw, not missing the way he shivers.

“Yes,” he replies, but when he opens his eyes they’re bright and alert, watching Jaebum’s face for his next move.

He steps a little closer, taking a corner of the blanket in one hand. “Did you have a good night?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says again, and this time it’s a little breathless, his eyes dropping to Jaebum’s mouth before swallowing hard. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

Leaning in and sliding one hand into the blanket to the waistband of Jinyoung’s pants, he tucks two fingers in and tugs playfully. “Want to have an even better one?”

He says yes a third time, and then Jaebum is dropping the blanket from him and picking him up by the hips, mouth findingJinyoung's as his legs wrap around Jaebum’s waist and he carries them into the bedroom. 

Their mouths never leave each other’s even as they shed their clothes article by article, until finally they have to separate to rid each other of their shirts. Jaebum comes back down, mouth sucking at the soft spot under Jinyoung’s jaw, reveling in the way it makes him squirm and beg underneath him. He can feel Jinyoung’s dick where it’s already hard and digging into his hip, practically begging to be touched, but Jaebum just slides his hands into Jinyoung’s and locks their fingers together, pinning them above his head. Still nipping and biting at Jinyoung’s neck, he lets go of one hand to grab blindly at their bedside table, hand finally falling on the knob and yanking the drawer open. It almost falls completely out with how hard he tugs on it, and Jinyoung laughs as miscellaneous items go spilling to the floor: keys, jewelry, coins, spare buttons for suits. Jaebum has to detach himself from Jinyoung’s neck before he can accurately locate the lube, which just makes Jinyoung whine. He gets some on his hands and then he’s slicking himself up, shuddering at the feeling and watching Jinyoung with eyes blown wide open. Slowly, Jaebum trails a hand down his boyfriend’s chest, watching as Jinyoung practically falls apart just from the touch, until he’s working two fingers into Jinyoung’s entrance. Jinyoung squeezes his eyes shut, panting and moaning, hips grinding down and fucking himself onto Jaebum’s fingers. Laughing breathlessly, he pulls them out and then he slides in, and the look of pure bliss on Jinyoung’s face is enough to make him lose it, right then and there. He starts to move, and then picks up the pace until he’s slamming into Jinyoung hard enough to make the headboard hit the hall, and Jinyoung is shouting his name intermingled with curses. 

“Tell me you love me,” Jinyoung says breathlessly, and the look in his eyes makes Jaebum feel weak. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” Jaebum says, and then he’s getting one hand around Jinyoung’s dick to jerk him off roughly as he fucks into him, the both of them on the edge and close to falling over it. “I love you,” he repeats over and over until finally with a last thrust he and Jinyoung both are shouting over each other, come splashing onto both of their stomachs. Jaebum pulls out and collapses nearly on top of Jinyoung, arms exhausted.

Jinyoung turns his head, looking tired but sated, and he smiles. “I love you, too.”

Jaebum slaps him lightly on the shoulder before breaking out into a laugh.

They spend the rest of their anniversary weekend like that, mostly naked and getting each other off as often as possible. They have sex on the couch multiple times, in the guest room, in the shower, once in the kitchen, though they both agree afterward that that’s where they cook food so they probably shouldn’t do that again. They make out lazily for hours like teenagers, putting on a movie only to abandon it in favor of each other. They spend it all in a fucked out haze, and Jaebum can’t believe that he ever forgot their anniversary, when this is what they’re always like—together, having impossible amounts of sex, and forgetting about the world around them for awhile.

Sunday night is when they decide to go out for dinner, a last hurrah before they have to return to the real world. Jaebum takes them out to the nicest restaurant they can find in downtown Seoul, one that usually has reservations months in advance but for the owner of Im Enterprises, anything, even last minute reservations at the chef’s table.

It’s delightful, the inside of the restaurant warm and inviting, with pleasant wait staff and dim lights that make it feel like they’re on one of their first dates. It’s going so perfectly that Jaebum forgets about their fight, and that he even forgot about this weekend at all. Jinyoung looks happy again, flashing him those blinding smiles that he hasn’t seen in a while. Everything feels good.

Which is, of course, when he gets a text in the middle of dinner from Eric.

He glances down at the phone in his lap, vaguely aware that Jinyoung is watching him over his dinner. _Might want to check the tabloids, JB._

A searing panic bolts its way down his spine. _Why? What do you mean?_

_Remember Yongseok?_

_The intern I hired that nobody liked? What about him?_

Eric’s reply takes a minute, but when his phone goes off, Eric’s reply is long. _Well, turns out that Yongseok was a little shit, and wasn’t really interested in working for you, but instead getting information about the company from you. News just broke everywhere that Kim Donghyun severed a deal with you because he didn’t like the offer you gave him, and instead is going to open a KBS station in America to broadcast to Korean-Americans. Donghyun released a statement to the press about it and it’s all over the radio, and Yongseok is positively basking in his fifteen minutes of fame as the internal spy of Im Enterprises. Jinyoungie is gonna have a real filthy mess to clean up._  

Jaebum’s blood runs ice cold. Everything around him seems to come to a complete standstill—the noise of the restaurant fades into a distant hum, and the world narrows down to the text message illuminating the screen. He can’t believe it. Kim Donghyun was just playing him the whole time—he should have known, he should have known that there was no way in hell that the owner of the fucking KBS would want to put stock in Im Enterprises when he already has millions of dollars, but there’s also no way in hell that he’d let Im Enterprises get the better of him and open a plant in America before him.

He should have seen it coming, and the hot rage that rushes through him makes him slam a fist down on the table, making the silverware and empty dishes jump. The rattling brings him back to the present, and sees that Jinyoung is looking at him in alarm.

“What happened?” he asks, and Jaebum just hands over his phone with the text from Eric pulled open. Jinyoung sighs after a moment, handing the phone back. “I’m sorry.”

“I have to call him,” Jaebum says, teeth gritted together so hard he feels like he could grind them to dust. “I have to call him and tell him to stop lying to the press.”

Jinyoung reaches across the table to take his hand. “Can’t it wait? We’re celebrating.”

Jaebum takes his hand back, a little more roughly than he intended, and misses the wounded look that crosses Jinyoung’s face as he puts his own hand back in his lap. “It can’t wait. I have to fix this, right now, or we’ll never get that plant opened in New York.”

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung says gently, “we don’t even need that plant in New York. The only reason we were going to open it is because we had the money and because it would give refugees a place to find good work until they could get back on their feet.”

“Of course we need it!” Jaebum almost shouts, and Jinyoung pales with shock at the outburst. “Of course we need it,” he says, more calmly, but he can still feel his body shaking with rage at the betrayal and the lies. “It was going to bring great press, and help us expand into the states. And now Donghyun is lying to the press about us, and we’ll never get that plant open now—not if the people in the states think I’m a stingy businessman, which is exactly what Donghyun is trying to do.”

“But—“

“And that little rat, Yongseok,” Jaebum says savagely, dropping his phone on the table and running both hands through his hair. “I knew I shouldn’t have hired him. I should have known the minute I caught him snooping around Eric’s desk when I sent Eric on errands one day. I should have known.”

“Well, you didn’t, and there’s nothing you can do right now, so just let it go until tomorrow.”

Jaebum looks over to see Jinyoung looking at him pointedly, a sharp, defiant look in his eyes that he gets when he’s trying to keep himself from getting angry. And Jaebum knows that he’s right, but he can’t just let this slide—he can’t let Yongseok and Donghyun tear him apart in the press, not at such a crucial time in the business’ life, when it could potentially bring them to the other side of the world. “I’m sorry, Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, pushing himself up from the table, “but I have to call Eric and I have to fix this right now.” he pulls the keys out of his pocket, tossing them on the table where Jinyoung just stares at them, hands clasped in his lap and eyes hard. “Take the car home when you’re done eating. Put it on my credit card and I’ll see you when I get home.”

He leans down to kiss Jinyoung briefly on the side of the head before he leaves, putting his coat on, but Jinyoung deflects and ducks out of reach. Without looking up, Jinyoung stuffs the keys in his pocket and slides his arms into his own coat. His movements are stiff, jaw tight and Jaebum knows he’s angry.

“Don’t be angry,” Jaebum says pleadingly, but the anxiety rushing through his blood makes it come out sounding hurried and thoughtless. “Don’t be like this right now.”

“Be like what?” Jinyoung asks, and even though it sounds tired, it packs a heat that Jaebum wasn’t expecting, and a few people in their proximity look over at them. “Don’t be like your boyfriend who is sick of coming second to your job?”

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, a warning note in his voice as he steps closer and reaches out to grab Jinyoung’s wrist. “Don’t act like this right now. Not in public."

“Why, are you afraid it’ll ruin the company’s image some more? Afraid of seeing ‘Im Jaebum’s Boyfriend Melts Down in Public’ across all the headlines tomorrow?” Jinyoung hurriedly adjusts the collar of his turtleneck under the cost, his hands shaking. 

Jaebum lowers his voice more, since people are definitely staring now. “Stop it.”

“Don’t try and tell me what to do. I’m your boyfriend, not your employee. Or do you not know the difference anymore?”

This stops him dead in his tracks. It stings as though Jinyoung had physically slapped him across the face. Voice tight, he picks up the phone and dials Eric before putting it to his ear. “Don’t be like this. I know you’re mad, but you’ll get over it. I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay, Mr. Im,” Jinyoung says, in a falsely bright voice that pierces Jaebum’s ears like needles. “I’ll sure do that, okay? Just let me know if you need anything else!” and then Jinyoung is shoving his wallet back into the front of his jeans and storming out much in the same fashion as he had a week ago. He feels like he should go fix it before it turns into something festering and ugly, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it before Eric answers the other line.

“Oh, man,” he says, with absolutely no preamble, “you’re screwed.”

 

_________________________________

 

By the time he gets home at around 11pm that night, almost four hours after Jinyoung had left the restaurant and he’d gone to a coffee shop to meet Eric, all the lights are off and Jinyoung is already asleep. Nora greets him at the door, meowing for attention, and Jaebum leans down to pet her on the head before raising the dimmer light in the kitchen enough so that he can see. It bathes the kitchen and the living room in a faint, slightly orange glow, and in the dim light he can see that Jinyoung is curled up on the couch with a blanket and the pillows from his side of the bed. Jaebum feels guilty while he watches him—there’s no telling how long he waited up, but he must have been tired if he dragged a blanket and his pillows with him. Quietly, not wanting to wake him up, Jaebum pads over to him and drops a kiss on his forehead before turning off the light in the kitchen and heading to bed.

 The next morning, Jinyoung comes into their room at 6 to get ready for work and barely says a word to him. Jaebum thinks he might just be tired, but judging by the tightness of his features, he also thinks he might still be angry with him. The only words Jinyoung says to him as they get ready together is “have you seen my tie?” which Jaebum pulls out of the dresser for him, feeling lost when normally polite Jinyoung takes it from him without saying thank you. Jinyoung dresses faster than he does, pulling on his shoes and coat before it’s even 6:30 and then he’s grabbing his bag and heading for the door. Confused, Jaebum calls after him.

“Where are you going?”

 “To work,” Jinyoung says, voice flat.

“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” They always go to work together, in the BMW that Jaebum bought for the both of them last year when the company really started getting busy.

 “No. I’m taking a cab.”

He waits for a moment for Jaebum to say something else, but he’s too shocked to speak. Taking his cue, Jinyoung turns around and leaves without saying goodbye. 

It’s the first time in three years that they’ve gone to work separately, except for the times Jaebum was on a business trip or Jinyoung was on vacation with his family. It makes him feel uneasy, like a vital part of his routine was disturbed and it’s thrown him entirely off balance. The feeling intensifies when he arrives to work a half hour later, and Soojin just looks at him sadly.

“What?” he asks, confused by the look on her face.

“Whatever you did, you better fix it.”

He’s not entirely sure what she’s talking about, so he just nods and heads to the elevators alone for the first time in years. The silence feels deafening without Jinyoung’s quite breathing or singing or talking to fill it, and he finds himself getting more and more anxious as he nears Jinyoung’s floor. When the elevator arrives, he gets off quickly and makes a bee-line for his boyfriend’s office.

He can hear Jinyoung talking before he opens the door, so he knocks quietly and waits until he hears Jinyoung’s quiet voice. “Come in.”

Jaebum sticks his head in the door and sees that Jinyoung is on the phone with someone, and there’s a nicely dressed woman sitting across his desk that he’s never seen before. There’s a nametag attached to her lapel, which means she’s probably from the press, which means Jinyoung is probably doing major damage control right now. Jinyoung just gives him a look devoid of any feeling, waiting for him to say something. “Ah, come to my office later.”

Jinyoung moves the receiver away from his mouth and says, “we’ll see” before replacing it and looking away.

Crestfallen, Jaebum closes the door to Jinyoung’s office and heads to his own, and he’s immediately slammed into by Eric as soon as he’s off the elevator. “I’m sorry, I tried to keep them all out, told them you were busy, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer." 

At first Jaebum has no idea what he’s talking about, until they both round the corner and there’s a mass of people waiting in the small lobby outside of Jaebum’s office. He groans audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking over at Eric. “All from the press?”

He winces slightly. “Unfortunately. Jinyoung took care of most of the press people earlier this morning when he got here, which is amazing considering he’s only been here for like, an hour. But these are the ones who weren’t content to talk to anyone but you directly.”

He sighs, already feeling resigned. “Alright. Send them in one by one, I don’t care how you do it.”

It takes all day. He sits down with over thirty people from a bunch of different newspapers and web-news sites. By the time he’s finished, it’s 7:30 in the evening and everyone else except security has already gone home. Packing up his things wearily, he wonders how long this will last until it blows over and they can go back to business as usual. Nodding to the head of security downstairs, he gets in the car and makes the 45 minute drive home in Seoul traffic, almost falling asleep a few times on the way there.

By the time he gets home at almost 9, Jinyoung is already dressed for bed and sitting on the couch with his glasses on and reading a book. He doesn’t look up when Jaebum comes in, but he says, “dinner is in the fridge.”

“You didn’t wait for me to eat?” he doesn’t mean for it to sound so pathetic, but it does, anyway.

“No. I didn’t know what time you were going to be done. You looked pretty busy." 

Jaebum is about to answer when his stomach drops. He suddenly remembers that Jinyoung was supposed to come by his office at some point, be he forgot about it as soon as he saw the swarm of people outside his office, and commanded Eric to not let anyone else in under any circumstances, unless the building was literally on fire. “Did you come by my office?”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry. There were a lot of press people that I wasn’t expecting.”

Jinyoung only answers with a soft “hmm” and keeps reading.

“Jinyoungie, don’t be mad at me.”

No answer.

He hates this, hates the silence in their apartment when there used to be laughter and music and Jinyoung’s endless babbling when he’s happy. Jaebum wishes he could go back to just Saturday, when everyone was over and everything was perfect and wonderful, and later that night when they had mind-blowing sex again and again and it was all punctuated with various declerations of “I love you”.

 “Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, and it almost sounds desperate, his hand gripping the end of the bar on the kitchen island so hard the tips of his fingers are white. “Please.”

With a resigned sigh, Jinyoung takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes roughly. He sets them down folded up on top of the book he was reading, and then he’s retreating into the bedroom. “Goodnight, Jaebum,” he says, and closes the door.

Jaebum waits in the horrible silence that follows, and even though the door closed with a quiet snick, the finality of the sound makes him feel like Jinyoung slammed it anyway. He doesn’t hear the lock click, which means he doesn’t have to sleep on the couch. Entering quietly, he shuts their bedroom door behind him and is plunged back into darkness, all the lights shut off. He undresses quietly, stripping down to his boxer briefs and slipping underneath the covers on his side of the bed. In the quiet of the room, he can hear Jinyoung’s irregular breathing and knows he isn’t asleep. Carefully, he reaches a hand out across the space between them and places it on Jinyoung’s hip, where it usually rests when they fall asleep together, fit together like two spoons.

 Jinyoung doesn’t move, though, and Jaebum feels him stiffen under his hand. After a moment, he feels Jinyoung’s fingers curl around his wrist and then Jinyoung is displacing his hand and letting it drop ungracefully to the sheets. Jaebum takes the hint and pulls his hand back, rolling over to his other side and staring at the wall until he falls asleep.

 

_______________________________

 

It continues on like this for almost two weeks. Jinyoung barely speaks to him at home, and Jaebum only ever sees him in the couple hours before bed, as he’s been staying later and later at the office trying to keep the investors from leaving. So far he’s been successful, and none of them have pulled out yet: most of them know that Kim Donghyun isn’t a good man, and that Jaebum is just as good, if not better, of a businessman than his father. They respect him, and he respects them, and it’s only after the two weeks of nearly 13 hour days at the office does he feel like he can give it a rest. On the weekends Jaebum ends up sleeping well into the afternoon, sometimes until 1 or 2, exhausted from working so late and getting up so early. Jinyoung disappears during these times, and Jaebum doesn’t pry knowing that Jinyoung keeping his space right now is all that’s holding him together, and he doesn’t want to make it worse.

After the two weeks are over, one morning while they’re getting ready, Jaebum grabs Jinyoung by the waist and puts his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Let’s ditch and go get breakfast.”

Jinyoung sighs, straightening his tie. “Don’t you have people waiting on you at the office?”

Jaebum misses the underlying malice in this. “Not today. C’mon, I feel like I’ve barely seen you. Please?" 

Jinyoung hesitates, and Jaebum anxiously waits for him to agree or deny. Finally, he sags back a little against Jaebum’s chest in defeat. “Alright.”

Planting a kiss against the side of his boyfriend’s head, Jaebum finishes getting dressed and then he’s whisking them both out the door. He takes them to Jinyoung’s favorite breakfast place, owned by this tiny, ancient woman that Jinyoung loves to talk to. As soon as they get out of the car and Jinyoung sees where they are, a small smile crosses his face, and it makes Jaebum ache a little. When’s the last time he’s seen Jinyoung smile, even a little, like this? It worries him that he’s not quite sure. They go inside, Jinyoung picking a spot by the window, like always. Jaebum always found this personality trait to be particularly cat-like: Jinyoung seemed to always be picking out the sunny spots to warm himself up in. It comforts him a little to see Jinyoung do something so familiar, something he feels like he’s been missing out on lately.

As soon as the owner hears who came in, she’s hobbling out to their table and greeting Jinyoung with a grin. He stands up and bows politely to her, asking her quietly if she remembers his boyfriend, Im Jaebum. She casts him a quick glance and turns back to Jinyoung, saying something too quietly and too quickly for him to hear. But whatever is makes Jinyoung’s smile slip for a moment, a look that Jaebum can’t describe passing over his face before he carefully arranges his features again. He chats with her for a bit, and then she’s hobbling back into the kitchen with their usual orders and it’s just the two of them again.

“She really likes you,” Jaebum says, meant more of a conversation starter than just an observation. 

“Mmm,” Jinyoung replies, closing his eyes as he leans a little into more of the sunlight streaming in through the window, and Jaebum is startled to see how exhausted he looks. The dark circles under his eyes stand out more, and the bones of his face look more pronounced, like he’s lost weight. It worries him. 

“Jinyoungie,” Jaebum says after a few minutes of silence. “I love you.”

This seems to startle Jinyoung. His eyes come open, finding Jaebum’s immediately and holding them, like he’s looking for something, trying to analyze and find the truth in Jaebum’s words. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say it back, but he closes it and just clenches his jaw. “I know,” he says instead. It feels like being punched.

Their food comes, then, and he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it. They eat in a silence that isn’t entirely comfortable, and Jaebum loses his appetite halfway through. When Jinyoung finishes eating, they go up to the counter to pay, and then they make their way back to the car to go to work.

Once they get there, Jinyoung finally looks at him when the elevator doors open to his floor. “See you later,” he says, and then the doors are closing after him and the elevator keeps taking him up, up, up.

It chases itself around in his mind almost all day, Jinyoung looking so forlorn and only saying “I know” when Jaebum told him that he loved him. There’s a heavy feeling coiled around his insides, weighing him down in a way that makes it almost impossible to focus on looking at the blueprints for their American plant that they still may open, after all. Around 3:30, the phone rings in his office without a warning from Eric, which means he’s either on lunch or just slacking entirely.

“Im Jaebum.”

“Hello, Mr. Im? My name is Katarina Walker, I’m from New York. I had tried to call a few days ago, but your assistant told me that you were out of the office and to try back in a few days.”

He doesn’t recognize her name, but the fact that she speaks damn near perfect Korean is very impressive. “Yes, I’ve had a lot of press coming in and out of the office so it’s been pretty busy. It was likely that I was here, just in the middle of something. He’s known to fib about my whereabouts.”

She laughs. “He sounds like a good assistant.”

Jaebum snorts. “He’s alright. May I ask the nature of this call, Miss Walker? It’s very late in New York right now, isn’t it?” 

“Only about 1:30 am, but the press never sleeps.” 

“Ah,” he says, getting a little guarded. He thought he was done with the press, but apparently not. “From the press?” 

“Yes. And I’m sure you’re very busy right now—“

“Not terribly.”

“Excellent,” she says, and before he has time to ask her where she learned to speak Korean so well, she’s launching into her first question. “You have plans to open a plant here in New York, is that correct?”

“Yes,” he says, and the questions that follow are pretty standard. What’s the business running like, how long has it been around, what are the plans for opening a New York plant, why New York, etc, etc. He was hoping that it was going to be a better press phone call, but up until this point it seemed pretty standard.

“Did you know that Kim Donghyun had Choi Yongseok working for him in order to gain intelligence about your company?” 

This question throws him for a loop. “Uh, no, I didn’t. It was pretty shocking when we all found out, especially because Yongseok was let go a few months prior to all of this.”

She doesn’t hesitate, just keeps barrelling on. “A lot of the executives in New York think that this was just a lot of elaborate scheming to get Im Enterprises on the press map in the states.”

In the middle of answering her question in a lot less of a nicer voice than he was using before, Eric knocks quietly and sticks his head in the door. “You have a visitor,” he stage whispers, and Jaebum just rolls his eyes.

Pulling the receiver away from his mouth, he says. “I’m busy.”

Eric winces a little. “It’s Jinyoung.”

He waves him off with a gesture, and then Jinyoung is stepping into the room to take up the space Eric had just abandoned. The journalist on the phone is currently going off about something, her tone also shifting from the pleasant one she was using earlier, and Jaebum cuts her off rudely in the middle of a tirade about his business ethics to tell her that her information is incredibly wrong, which just sends her on another tangent. Jaebum looks up at Jinyoung while she goes off, eyebrows raised in silent question. Jinyoung’s got his bag with him, already bundled up in his coat with his scarf tied around his neck. His face looks pale, and under the harsh flourescents of Jaebum’s office, his cheeks look even more hollow than they did that morning at breakfast. There’s a nervous air coming off of Jinyoung, and Jaebum glances down at where his hands are twitching nervously on the strap of his bag.

“What’s up?” Jaebum asks, covering the receiver of the phone with his hand. 

“Can you get off the phone?” 

He shakes his head and gives the journalist another retort, rolling his eyes when she replies and keeps going in on him.

“Jaebum, this is important.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, holding the phone completely away from his face. “It’s a reporter from New York, and she’s being a real pain in the ass. She keeps saying that the whole falling out with Donghyun was a scheme—“

“Jaebum. I’m serious. This is important. Please hang up the phone.” 

Jaebum looks up at him, and there’s a slight annoyance in his tone that makes Jaebum frown at him. “I’m sure this won’t take too much longer, do you want to sit down?”

“No,” Jinyoung says, and finally it registers—Jinyoung isn’t anxious, he’s angry. Jaebum looks up in surprise. “No, I don’t want to sit down. I want you to get off the phone so I can talk to you.”

“Just give me two minutes,” he says, hurriedly telling the journalist that he has something to take care of, which she ignores, and continues to assault him with names and information that he’s never even heard of, talking about how this is some bigger scheme than any of them realize—and then her voice cuts off, as Jinyoung has crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed the phone and slammed it back down on the cradle. 

“Hey!” Jaebum exclaims, looking up at Jinyoung in disbelief. “I was on the phone with a reporter!”

“That’s great,” Jinyoung says, and the sarcasm is heavy in his voice, positively dripping with it in a way that is so unlike Jinyoung it makes Jaebum’s blood run cold. “Maybe you can talk to me, now. Your boyfriend.”

Jaebum runs a hand over his face in exasperation. “This couldn’t have waited until we got home? Why are you so determined to make a scene?”

Jinyoung just sputters for a moment before barking a laugh that holds no humor in it. The sound of it shatters against the air and lodges in Jaebum’s skin like ice, it’s so cold, so devoid of warmth and the usual spark so unique to Jinyoung. “Making a scene is the only way I can get your attention anymore, apparently!”

Utterly confused, Jaebum just looks at him. “What are you talking about?!”

“This!” Jinyoung shouts, and Jaebum is taken aback by the animosity behind it. “This is what I’m talking about! The cluelessness, the fighting, me never being able to see you unless it’s on your time and then it gets interrupted by work, anyway. I’ve been with you every day at home for the past month and a half but I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks, Jaebum!" 

“I—“

Jinyoung cuts him off, stabbing an accusing finger in his direction. “You forgetting our anniversary wasn’t just the start of it, although that was certainly the goddamn catalyst. I’ve been feeling less and less connected to you, ever since Kim Donghyun wanted to take you up on an offer to buy into this company, and then he turns out to be a con artist. Then you forget our anniversary for the first time in five years—five fucking years!—and try to play it off like you didn’t forget, even though you did. And you made up for it, but then the process started all over again, with Kim Donghyun turning out to be shit just like your stupid intern Yongseok, and I just was pushed further and further out until I felt like you were just a roommate who came home at weird times. You know who’s been feeding your fucking cat, Jaebum? Me. Because you keep forgetting. You’ve been constantly forgetting what’s important to you. I’m sick of it.”

When his rant is over, Jinyoung just stands across the desk, breathing in great, heaving gulps like he’d been running. Hot tears run down his face, his cheeks staining pink with the first real color he’s seen in them lately. Jaebum is so caught off guard that he doesn’t even know what to say—the force of Jinyoung’s anger feels physical, like it’s too big for him, too big for the room and forcing out all the oxygen, leaving him speechless.

“And then, I come in here because I want to talk to you, I want to see you,” Jinyoung says after a moment, and now he’s absolutely seething, speaking through grit teeth. “And you can’t even hang up the phone with an obviously washed up reporter from New York because you can’t stand the thought of tarnishing this company’s image, even a little bit.”

Before he can stop himself, Jaebum replies hotly, “because this is my father’s company. It’s not about me and my image. It’s about keeping his clean and alive.”

“Your father is dead, Jaebum,” he snaps, and Jaebum feels the air leave him like he’d physically been hit in the stomach. His dad had passed away years ago, right after Jaebum graduated business school, when the business was passed down to him. It’s been a long time, and the wound is no longer fresh but like any significant loss, it still bleeds, and it feels like Jinyoung is sticking his fingers into it as hard as he can. “But I’m not.”

On a gasp, Jaebum says, “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Of course you don’t,” he spits, and just like that he’s spinning on his heel and snatching up his bag, heading for the door. Jaebum is up out of his chair in an instant, crossing the room in four steps to grab Jinyoung by the bicep and pull him back.

“What does that mean? Where are you going? Am I going to see you at home?”

“Don’t count on it,” Jinyoung says evenly, and the finality in it sounds like the slamming of a door. Jinyoung gets a hand on his chest and shoves lightly, enough that Jaebum loses his grip on his arm and Jinyoung slips out the door, letting it close behind him.

When he’s left in the silence, Jaebum tries to piece together what just happened. The things Jinyoung said to him play over and over in his mind, the look on his face when he said “Your father is dead, Jaebum, but I’m not” and what that’s even supposed to mean to him—he doesn’t know, he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to say to that. He breathes in shakily, feeling panic shoot hot and fast through his blood, making him feel hyperaware of everything in the room until it’s too much, and he drops into a chair by the door of his office, fisting his hands in his hair in frustration. 

Eric bursts in the door a few seconds later, looking terrified. “What is going on in here?! Are you dying?”

Jaebum doesn’t even look up, just pushes his hands harder against the sides of his head and shouts at Eric to _get out, get out, GET OUT_ until Eric is backing out of the door with his hands up and eyes wide as saucers. When he’s finally alone again, he feels the shock leave him until he just feels weak. Standing up with one hand on his desk, he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and tries to call Jinyoung.

_Ring. Ring. Hello, this is Jinyoung—_

Two rings and a voicemail. 

He tries again.

_Ring. Ring. Hello, this is Jinyoung—_

He must be screening Jaebum’s calls.

Again.

_Ring. Ring. Hello, this is Jinyoung—_

“Fuck!” 

A fourth time. 

_Hello, this is Jinyoung—_

His phone is turned off now, and the realization makes Jaebum throw his phone angrily to the ground. He watches at it bounces off the carpet and slides next to the window, and then he looks up into the slowly darkening sky over the Seoul skyline and wonders where he suddenly went wrong.

 

__________________________________

 

On his way home a couple hours later after apologizing profusely to Eric (who still just looked confused and a little afraid), he steels himself to face another round of Jinyoung’s wrath and thinks of ways to calm him down, and hopefully talk to him about whatever crazy shit is going on with him. Even in the years that they hated each other, he’s never seen Jinyoung as angry as he’s been lately. Every word that Jinyoung says has venom dripping from it, in a way so uncharacteristically Jinyoung that he feels like Jinyoung’s been replaced by a body-snatcher. Jinyoung has never been so brash about his father’s death, and he’s especially never used it against him like this. Jaebum feels sick with worry.

The dread settles thicker in his stomach when he arrives at their apartment and their doorman just looks at him before finding something more interesting on the desk to stare at. The elevator ride is excruciating, with a few people that also live in the building getting on an off at various floors, so it takes twice as long as it usually does it get to their 10th floor apartment. By the time he gets the key in the lock and is entering the security code, he feels like he’s been entirely doused in cold water. His first clue that something is wrong is when he doesn’t hear Nora meowing anywhere, and she’s not right under his feet begging to be pet. Fear spreads through his chest, making his arms feel numb as he flips the living room light on. It flips on easily and bathes everything in the soft white glow, the furniture all intact and in place, and it looks untouched. Still uneasy, he clutches his briefcase tighter in his hand, feeling it slip a little in his hand as his palms get increasingly more clammy the closer he gets to their bedroom. Pushing the door open, he flips the light on. 

At first, nothing looks wrong: the bed is made like usual, their nightstands neat and clean, the bathroom door closed and their towels hung on the back of it. Jinyoung isn’t here, and that same feeling of dread worries at his nerves as he goes to the closet and throws the door open.

Half of it is empty.

Most of Jinyoung’s clothes are gone, the hangers they were on lined up in the rack like the shed carapaces of beetles. In disbelief Jaebum turns around, briefcase falling to the ground with a soft thud on their plush, cream colored carpet. He stumbles over to the dresser across from their bed and starts to pull the drawers that Jinyoung uses open, one by one.

All of them are empty. Barren. Cleaned out like they’d never been used.

Jaebum nearly breaks the bathroom door trying to open it, as if he needs more evidence of what happened, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung’s toothbrush is no longer next to his and his glasses case is missing that he gets it. He stumbles back into their bedroom, the drawers still hanging open from where he’d pulled them out, mocking him like big, laughing mouths. He slams them closed with a shout, painfully getting one of his fingers caught in between one as he’s almost certain that he’s broken it, but the misery completely sucking him under numbs him to the pain. Jaebum tears all the empty hangers down in the closet, letting them clang and jumble together on the floor. The closet seems so much bigger without Jinyoung’s meticulously organized clothes taking up space in it, and that’s it. It’s the final straw. He drops to his knees again, his arms wrapped around his middle like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. Sobs wrack his body as grief floods him, tearing him apart with each fresh wave of it, pulling him in half.

Jinyoung is gone, left without even a goodbye, and Jaebum replays their last conversation in his head, over and over until it sounds like a mantra, something that people repeat to themselves until the words don’t sound like words anymore.

_What does that mean? Where are you going? Am I going to see you at home?_

_Don’t count on it._


	2. Chapter 2

"Jesus. What the hell happened in here?!" 

Jaebum just sighs. He's standing in the kitchen with Eric, who is currently surveying the damage with both hands fisted in his hair looking stressed out. His eyes are impossibly wide in his face, taking in the broken lamp in the living room and the pictures laying haphazardly on the floor by the hallway where they were knocked down by some sort of projectile. At this point, Jaebum can't remember if it was a cup that had been sitting on the counter, another picture, one of the books on the table.

He hadn’t even meant to do it—he’s no stranger to throwing things, or kicking a hole in the wall when he’s angry but he never meant to completely destroy half of their apartment. One minute he was on the floor of their bedroom sobbing so hard it felt like his lungs were going to collapse, and the next he was staggering to his feet and tearing the door open so hard he heard the hinges creak. The breaths that pulled themselves from his chest were ragged, broken things, and as he set to tearing down the pictures on the wall they came louder and louder until he was practically screaming every breath, sounding so much like a dying animal. They only stopped briefly when he sent his fist flying through the glass of a picture frame, pieces of glass sprinkling onto his shoes and lodging into his hand. He had stared at the blood welling up around them in awe, wondering if it was possible that it was what his heart looked like: stabbed through and bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. He pulled the glass out savagely, dropping it to the ground and listening in satisfaction as it crunched underneath his shoes. Emerging from the hallway dripping blood on their cream colored carpet, he missed the step down into the living room and went teetering into the lamp that Jinyoung had bought the second day they moved in four years ago, claiming that the vaguely sea-shell shaped patterns on the glass shade would go with whatever theme they decide to decorate with. It hit the floor with a crack and then it was sending more glass across the carpet, and the sight of it broken on the floor, something Jinyoung had picked out for them, for their apartment, drew a pained cry from his mouth. He picked up the books on the coffee table and threw them, swiping off the rest onto the floor so that he could painfully bang his fists on the surface when he dropped to his knees again. It felt like it went on forever, a hurricane of violence ripping its way through him, no object in their apartment safe from the swing of his hands or the swiftness of a kick—the sound of the barstools clattering onto the tile of the kitchen reminded him of the sound that teeth make when they snap together too hard in your head, and it’s only when he’s suddenly looking at the ceiling that he realizes that that was exactly what it sounded like. Laid out flat on his back from where he fell after kicking the barstools, the exhaustion finally pulled him under and he woke up like that, surrounded by his wreckage.

"God, JB, look at your hand," Eric sighs, and the sound brings Jaebum back to the present. Looking away from the trashed living room, Eric sets his pitying look on him. The broken lamp shattered immediately upon hitting the floor, small pieces of glass shimmering in the sunlight streaming in through the sliding glass doors like spilled glitter. The pictures on the walls that survived being knocked down or smashed in by his fist or something he'd thrown are sitting crazily skewed on the walls, looking like some sort of bizzaro version of their apartment where everything is upside down. The coffee table books that he’d swiped off the glass surface are scattered on the floor, the pages getting bent and torn in a way that, distantly, Jaebum knows would upset Jinyoung. He tries to shake that thought off as he turns to Eric, who is looking at him with concern.

Looking away and down at his hands, he surveys the cuts and scrapes from the glass, dried blood making them stiff. One of his fingers is a little swollen and an alarming shade of purple, bruising from where he slammed it into the dresser drawer. He balls his hands into fists repeatedly, watching as the skin pulls apart and starts to leak fresh blood. "Yeah." 

"What the hell happened?" 

Jaebum sighs again, going around to sit on the only barstool that hasn't been knocked over. He looks into the kitchen, relatively unharmed from the tornado of his breakdown, and avoids Eric's eyes. "Jinyoung left."

"Like, for good?"

"I don't know," he says, and he suddenly feels more tired than he has in god knows how long. In actuality everything happened quickly when he started in on their apartment, but he remembers how it long it felt, like everything was happening in slow motion. Agonizing, like it was hours he was spiraling into madness, so caught up in the storm of grief and rage that it seemed like he was going to keep going and never stop. Things were thrown and torn down and tears came and went punctuated by a seemingly endless alternation of cursing and begging. "I don't know, Eric. We've been fighting so much lately, and—"

"I know," Eric says, and this startles Jaebum into looking up at him. Sheepishly, Eric ducks his head and looks at the counter. "That inter-office IM service was good for me after all, I guess."

Jaebum just closes his eyes. Somehow, knowing that Jinyoung had been talking about how much they'd been fighting to his assistant just feels like fingers pressing down into a bruise. He can't imagine, then, what he's been saying to their friends. "We've been fighting so much, and for two weeks he barely said more than ten words to me. And then that day in my office when I was on the phone with that reporter, I think that was just the last straw for him. I asked him if I'd see him at home and he said 'Don't count on it' and then I got here and he was gone. Most of his stuff is gone and I don't know where he went. He won't answer my calls."

"Have you tried calling anyone else?"

"No," Jaebum says, and drops his head onto his arms on the countertop, taking momentary comfort in the coolness of the marble against his aching limbs. "If he went somewhere without telling everyone, I don't want to make a big deal out of it. But I'm sure he's with Jackson." 

“Then have you tried calling Jackson?”

Jaebum doesn’t answer for a moment, closing his eyes. He wishes that this wasn’t happening, that this was just some sort of horrible dream he’s having, one that he can’t wake up from, but he knows it’s not. Every second that passes with Jinyoung being moved out of their apartment without so much as a goodbye or an explanation feels like a dagger twisting further and further into his chest. “No. I haven’t. I don’t know if I should yet.”

“Maybe you should. Or at least call someone.” 

Jaebum looks up, trying to decide which one of their friends to call. Back in college it was easier—there was an obvious divide between their friend groups, and who belonged to whom. But now that they’ve all been so close the past 5 years, those lines have blurred to the point where Jaebum knows that calling BamBam would get the same feeling as calling Yugyeom. But even still, a small part of him knows that, in a situation like this, there would be no hesitation to pick sides, and Jackson, Mark, and BamBam wouldn’t be on his. He sighs. “I called you, didn’t I?”

Eric’s face snaps into a look of alarm, his eyes wide in a way that would have been comical to Jaebum if he didn’t feel so much like dying. He holds his hands up defensively. “Whoa, man, I know I’m your assistant and all, and no offense, but I think this might be above my paygrade. I mean, now what am I supposed to do? Do I help you clean up the absolute mess you’ve made in your apartment, or do I leave, quit my job, change my name, change my number, and move out of the country?”

Despite everything, it makes Jaebum snort half-heartedly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.”

Shrugging, Eric tugs nervously at the bottom of his striped red and white sweater. “Naw, I’m glad you did. I just don’t think I can help you as much as they can, you know? I really will help you clean up, if you need me to.” 

Jaebum waves him off, the open cuts on his knuckles dripping small beads of blood onto the white marble. He swallows hard and looks away from it. “It’s alright. Thank you. Could you let everyone know I’ll be out of the office this week? I’ll have my cellphone for emergencies, but I really don’t want to answer it. If it’s a question you can handle, take it.”

Eric nods, dropping a small salute to Jaebum before he gathers up his backpack and leaves, the door of the apartment shutting Jaebum up into an eerie silence again.

Cradling his injured hand absentmindedly against his chest, he surveys the room again, looking at the mess he’s made. Stepping down into the living room, he sits heavily down on the couch (which seems to be the only other thing besides the TV that survived the storm) and keeps his eyes focused straight ahead, willing himself to call someone, anyone. He doesn’t know if anyone knows yet—besides Jackson, who he’s almost positive took Jinyoung in. Jackson doesn’t live terribly far from them, and Jinyoung could have walked there if he was desperate enough. But with the amount of things he took with him, he must have had two or three suitcases at least. Jaebum distantly wonders what Jackson thought when he opened the door and saw Jinyoung there, suitcases in hand, messenger bag slung over his thin chest, glasses slipped down his nose. He wonders if Jinyoung was angry when he got there; if he was just as angry as he had been himself, throwing things and shouting. He wonders if he was crying.

He feels like his heart is splitting in two at the image of Jinyoung on Jackson’s doorstep, tears streaming down his face with all of his bags packed with things he’d taken from their apartment, Nora cradled in his arms. He’s seen Jinyoung cry countless times, over big things and small things, and to know that he may have been the cause of a fresh set of anguish tears at him like the sharp teeth of an animal. Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he scrolls through his contact list until he finds who he’s looking for and dials, closing his eyes while the line rings.

“Hi, Jaebum,” Youngjae says pleasantly, and just the sound of his friend’s voice is enough to send a hot rush of relief through him. It lasts mere seconds, but it’s relief nonetheless, and he tries to remember the feeling.

“Youngjae.”

“What’s the matter?” Youngjae asks, suddenly alert, and Jaebum knows he called the right person. Had he called Yugyeom, or BamBam, they might not have heard the horrible note of utter misery in his voice, conveyed in a single word. He might have had to tell them that something bad happened, which would have worried them, and it would have gotten messier and messier until Jaebum had to solve more problems than the one he was currently facing. He loves them both, but Youngjae is the most attuned to him.

“Something happened,” he says, and his breath hitches, and he forces himself not to cry. “Jinyoung—Jinyoung left. He moved out of the apartment.”

The utter shock in Youngjae’s voice when he exclaims “what?” is almost comforting—so not everyone knows, then.

“I just…I don’t know what to do. I came home from work last night and his stuff was gone. Some of his stuff is still here, he couldn’t have possibly taken all of it so quickly, but his clothes, everything in the dresser, Youngjae, his toothbrush. All gone. He didn’t even leave a note.”

It’s silent on Youngjae’s end for a moment and Jaebum patiently gives him time to process the information he was just given. “What? Just, _what?”_

“I don’t know,” he says again, and he feels like it’s the only thing he does know right now.

“Are you alright?”

Jaebum barks a laugh, sharp and bitter. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You know what I meant,” Youngjae says, hurt coloring his voice, and Jaebum has the decency to feel guilty and apologize. “It’s fine, I understand there’s a lot going on. Do you want to get dinner? We can bring Yugyeom so you don’t have to tell the story twice.”

Sighing, he nods before remembering Youngjae can’t actually see him. “I don’t feel much like eating, but coffee might help. But, yeah, can I stop by your house first? I need some help bandaging my hand.”

“Oh, Jaebum,” Youngjae says softly. Because without even asking, he already knows what he did. A part of Jaebum feels ashamed.

“I lost control,” he says, just for something to say. He doesn’t need to explain to Youngjae, and he never has—Youngjae has patched up his knuckles more than once; anytime that Jaebum sent his fist through a door or a wall or a window, Youngjae didn’t ask questions, he just knew. But he was never afraid of Jaebum’s anger like everyone else was afraid of it, and with Youngjae’s meekness being such a large part of his personality, this always surprised him. He wonders when he’ll ever be deserving of it. 

“I know. I’ll see you when you get here,” and then Youngjae hangs up. 

Never, he thinks to himself miserably. He’ll never deserve it.

 

________________________________

 

Thankfully, for once in their lives, Yugyeom is mercifully silent. Youngjae drives them all into downtown Seoul, trying to find somewhere that isn’t terribly crowded for a Tuesday afternoon, and Jaebum just keeps his eyes closed with his head against the cold glass of the window. Yugyeom bounced anxiously in the backseat—his initial greeting of “what’s up, loser,” was shut down immediately by Youngjae with a look so scathing that Jaebum thinks it would have done his mother proud.

When they all sit down in the back booth of a coffee shop away from most of the patrons, Yugyeom breaks his silence with a desperate whisper of “please tell me what happened” that, for once, is more born out of worry than it is the desire to gossip. They order coffee before they begin, and Yugyeom finally notices the bandage around Jaebum’s knuckles when he gratefully takes his cup from the server when she brings it. Jaebum notices him notice, but Yugyeom continues to hold in his questions until Jaebum sets his coffee down and clears his throat. 

“Jinyoung moved out.”

Youngjae, who already knows, just blinks slowly. However, Yugyeom looks like he’s being punched in the stomach, sucking in a huge breath of air. “What!?” positively explodes out of him, and the outburst draws all the eyes in the establishment to their table, even though they’re positioned in a back corner. Yugyeom turns around in his seat, waving to everyone and mumbling an embarrassed apology before whipping back around to look at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“He moved out, Yugyeom.”

“Does anyone else know? BamBam or Mark?” Yugyeom leaves out Jackson, which he thinks is purposeful—like Jaebum, he probably also assumes he went straight to Jackson.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“What happened?” Yugyeom asks, and it sounds almost unfairly desperate. Jaebum thinks about how in college, before they had gotten so close, Yugyeom would have rejoiced in the news. But now, sitting across from him bundled up in a winter coat with a scarf tucked messily around his neck, Jaebum can’t help but think that he looks like a child whose parents are separating. He wants to laugh but feels like if he tries he’ll just start crying instead.

Sighing heavily, Jaebum puts his coffee down on the table and then rests his cheek in his uninjured hand, looking down at the cracked surface of the table instead of either of them. “I’m not sure. We’ve been fighting a lot recently. It—it all happened so quickly. Jinyoung told me that it started months ago when I first heard from Kim Donghyun about him wanting to be a possible investor, that I was constantly at work and on the phone and blowing him off for weeks. And then I forgot our anniversary—“ at this both of them wince visibly, which doesn’t help—“and had to make up for it. Which it seemed fine after, you know, we spent all day Sunday together, but that night at dinner was when Eric texted me that the Kim Donghyun deal was essentially blowing up in my face and that the press was all over it. I had to leave to call Eric, and I’ve never seen Jinyoung so angry at me—maybe when he realized I had forgotten our anniversary, but never as angry as that, not in our whole lives.” He swallows hard, eyes burning. “And then he barely said three sentences to me for two weeks. I was at the office for close to 13 hours every day, trying to do damage control, you know, trying to keep our current investors from leaving, and then on the weekends I was sleeping so late that I only saw Jinyoung for a few hours when he’d come home from somewhere and we’d eat quietly and go to bed. And then the other day in my office—I was on the phone with a reporter from New York when Jinyoung came in and we started fighting. It was fucking horrible—the anger in him, I’ve never felt it so strong before, like it was just rolling off him in waves—“ Jaebum sniffs, realizing belatedly that his cheeks are wet with tears. He wipes an arm across his face. “And we got into an argument and when he stormed out I asked if I was going to see him at home and he said ‘don’t count on it’. And then I came home and he was gone. Most of his clothes, his toothbrush. Nora. He even took Nora.”

Yugyeom’s face had been getting progressively more pale as Jaebum went on, and when he finally looks up at him, he’s a little startled to see that Yugyeom looks like he’s about to throw up. “He—he took your cat?” 

The fact that this is the first thing that either of them can think of to ask him after his miserable retelling (that he skillfully left trashing the apartment out of) would have made him laugh in any other circumstance. “Nora is just as much his cat as she is mine. I always forget to feed her, but Jinyoung never does. It’s probably for the best that he took her.”

Silence falls over the three of them. Yugyeom looks so wrecked, face paper white and eyes wet, that Jaebum wonders if he’s just being overdramatic about it. But the way that Yugyeom looks at him, the hurt so clear in his eyes, he knows that he isn’t, and that somehow makes it worse. To know that Yugyeom, once so dedicated to making Jinyoung’s life miserable, to know that he’s just as hurt by the fault line appearing in the family they’ve created offers him just a little bit of comfort. It’s small, but it’s comfort nonetheless, and he latches on to it desperately. 

Youngjae speaks for the first time since they’ve gotten there. “Have you tried to talk to him yet?”

“No,” he admits, leaning up out of his hand to wipe his palm nervously against the leg of his jeans. “I don’t even really know what I would say to him.”

“Asking him where he is and if he’s alright might be a good place to start,” Youngjae says, and his voice is uncharacteristically sharp, so much so that it makes Jaebum look at him in surprise. “Sorry. I’m just worried about both of you.” 

“He’s more likely to answer the phone for you than me right now. Maybe you should call him, instead.”

“Yeah,” Youngjae agrees, twirling his spoon around his untouched cup of coffee. “But he also might not think everyone knows yet, and he might not want to tell us. He might try to play it off like nothing is wrong.” 

Groaning, Jaebum drops his head. “I really don’t want to call him.” 

“Yes you do,” Yugyeom says quietly. “You love him, don’t you?” 

Jaebum is almost offended at this—what kind of question? There’s not even a shadow of a doubt that he loves Jinyoung, and always will. But he knows that Yugyeom is just being philosophical, so he tamps down the anger that wants to crawl up his throat at the question. “Of course I do.”

Yugyeom stands up, signaling that it’s time for them to go and it’s time for him to set to fixing this. “Then you’ll call him. Let’s go.”

They offer to stay with him at home, but he hasn’t cleaned the apartment all the way so he just says that he’ll call them tomorrow. When he gets back into the apartment and turns on the light, it looks better than it did when he woke up this morning: the glass has been cleaned up out of the carpet, the books from the coffee table stacked underneath the shattered and bent pictures that had fallen to the floor, and the barstools righted and tucked back underneath the bar. Before he does anything else he makes himself a drink, dragging out the expensive scotch Yugyeom got him last year because it made him feel “sophisticated”. He makes it a little stronger than he should have, maybe, because half an hour later the room is swimming a little.

Jaebum checks his watch: it’s a little passed four, which means it’s too early to be drinking something so strong but it’s too late to stop. He wobbles on unsteady legs to the kitchen and pours himself another one, grumbling when he overshoots and pours some of the amber liquid onto the counter. Jaebum tries to convince himself that he’s drinking to relax, but he knows deep down that the real reason he’s pouring himself half full glasses of scotch is because he’s still trying to find the courage to call Jinyoung.

Nursing his third drink a few minutes later after finishing the second one in a hurry, he flips channels on the TV for a while, trying to find something to watch. After an hour and his empty glass is on the table, he finally gives up: checking his watch again he realizes that it’s past six now and he’s killed two hours getting dead drunk. Calling Jinyoung seems like an even worse idea than before, now that he’s upset, alone, and drunk, but the thing about liquid courage is that it overpowers any sound reason. Fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket, he dials Jinyoung’s number half because he can’t wait long enough to scroll through his contacts to find him and half just to prove to himself that he still knows the number by heart.

It rings a few times, and Jaebum gets a sinking feeling that he’s not even going to answer. Which, honestly, why didn’t he think of that before? It’s barely been 24 hours since Jinyoung left, there’s no guarantee that he’d answer the phone a week after leaving. Jinyoung could potentially never answer the phone again. 

The thought makes him panic, and he’s about to hang up the phone when he hears the line pick up. It’s quiet for a moment, Jinyoung not saying hi and Jaebum not acknowledging that, incredibly, Jinyoung actually answered.

“I know you’re there, Jaebum,” Jinyoung finally says, but instead of feeling relieved Jaebum just feels more miserable: Jinyoung’s voice is strained, tired and stretched thin. There’s a distinctly thick quality to his words that tips Jaebum off to the fact that he’s been crying. His heart thumps painfully.

“Where are you?” he asks, the hand not holding the phone grabbing painfully at the material of the couch like it’s the only thing that’s going to keep him tethered him to the earth. 

“You know where I am.”

“With Jackson?” he supplies, trying to keep his words from slurring.

“Yes.” 

God, his voice sounds so distant, so cold. It’s nothing like the Jinyoung that he’s been loving all these years, and the agony at being apart from him in such a suspended state, not knowing where they stand, feels like it’s really going to tear him in half. “Are you alright?”

Jinyoung just laughs sharply, the sound feeling like a slap even over the phone, and Jaebum fleetingly remembers that he did the same thing to Youngjae earlier. “What do you think?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his chest starting to tighten. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” It’s not exactly what he meant to say, but now that he’s said it, he realizes that he means it. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I—all of your things are gone, I was so scared when I came home and you weren’t here, all of your stuff just gone—“

“Stop,” Jinyoung says, and it comes out rushed, like he’s struggling to breathe. “Stop. Don’t do this.” 

“Do what? Tell you how scared I was? It was so quiet, not even Nora was meowing, I was so worried that something had happened, but I never could have imagined that you would just leave, I—“ his breath hitches painfully, his eyes squeezing shut before he can continue. “I didn’t mean to, you know how it is, though, when I get angry sometimes, the picture was just within reach and it was the only thing I could think to do, I didn’t even realize that it hurt until after, when I got blood on the floor—“

“Blood?” Jinyoung says sharply, alarm making his voice shrill. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I punched a picture frame.”

“Oh, you fucking—“ Jinyoung swears under his breath, and the phone moves away from his mouth so that Jaebum can only hear him sniffling faintly as he curses at him. “You idiot. You idiot. Why? Why would you do that?" 

“I broke the lamp, too. There was a lot of glass in the carpet.”

“Jesus Christ, Jaebum.”

“I didn’t—“ his breath catches painfully again, and he realizes that the burning in his throat is from unshed tears. When he continues, his voice wavers, horribly quiet. “I didn’t mean to. I just lost it." 

Silence, except for the sound of Jinyoung’s unsteady breathing.

On the verge of tears, Jaebum grips the phone in his hand tighter as his eyes water and sting. “You took—you took Nora.”

“I didn’t want her getting neglected.”

“I would never!” he shouts, voice cracking, hot tears finally rushing down his face. “I would never neglect her, I love her, you know that I love her, she’s my baby, she means the world to me, I’d never do anything to hurt her.” He’s not sure if he’s actually talking about Nora, or if he’s talking about Jinyoung.

“I know you wouldn’t, not on purpose.”

And then, finally, before he can stop the words: “Then why did you leave, too? Why did you go?” 

“Jaebum…” Jinyoung says on a sigh, sounding infinitely more exhausted than when he first picked up the phone.

“Please come home,” he cries, his free hand coming up to tug painfully on a fistful of his own hair, trying to keep himself grounded from where his vision swims with tears. “Please, I miss you, come back—“

“Don’t do this,” Jinyoung practically begs, and the desperation in his voice makes the ache in Jaebum’s chest worse. “You can’t—you can’t just call me drunk like this and beg me to come home, not after what happened.”

Ignoring this, Jaebum goes on. “Please, please, I miss you so much,” he breaks off with a sob, inhaling unsteadily. “I love you, please come back, I’m so sorry.” 

When Jinyoung answers him, he sounds absolutely wretched. “We need this. You need this. Please, Jaebum, please hang up and go get some sleep.”

“I love you,” Jaebum says again, putting all the feeling he can muster into the words, his voice shaking, thick with tears and all the heartache currently tearing his whole body apart. “I’ve never loved anyone like this, no one but you. Please come home.” 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” Jinyoung sighs, his voice wavering, but with a note of finality that falls on Jaebum’s ears like a slammed door. “I’ll call you when I think we’re both ready. Don’t call me again.”

And then the line goes dead.

With the tears still drying on his face, Jaebum just stares down at the screen of his phone in a sort of detached disbelief—Just like that, and it’s all over. Jinyoung never actually said the words “it’s over”, but it was there, in the way he said Don’t call me again and hung up without saying goodbye, or I love you. Five years between them, gone between one moment and the next; their small, patched together family finding themselves divided amongst two lines again, in a way that they promised that they would never do. Five years, the most beautiful five years of his life, falling in on him like a burning building that he can’t escape from. Dropping his phone to the floor out of his reach, he lays back on the couch and cries until he falls asleep.

 

__________________________________

 

The next few days pass by in a fog so thick that Jaebum barely remembers any of it. Apparently he calls Yugyeom multiple times—when he wakes up on day four of being apart from Jinyoung, drenched in sweat and still wearing his clothes, there’s a text from Yugyeom flashing on his screen that says Are you literally dying, or are you just saying you’re dying because that’s what heartache feels like?

It’s both, he sends back, and it’s the first real communication he’s had with anyone in days.

Looking over at the clock on Jinyoung’s bedside table, he realizes it’s too late to go to work, so he resolves to clean up the apartment and make it inhabitable again and take a shower. He has a hell of a time getting the rest of the glass out of the carpet—he’d cleaned up most of it, but walking across the living room with bare feet and the resulting burning pain let him know that he didn’t get all of it, and that he could also add an injured foot to the list of body parts hurting him at the moment. It’s so fine that’s it’s crushed nearly into a powder, so he vacuums it up after trying unsuccessfully to pick it up with a lint roller. He empties the frames of their broken glass and removes the pictures, storing them in one of the empty dresser drawers until he can replace the frames that he tossed into the trash. The books are salvageable, and he rearranges them neatly on the table, but looking at them at an angle he can see the pages that are bent out of shape. It’s a constant reminder of what happened. He tries to avoid sitting on that side of the couch. After the apartment looks mostly normal, save for the now empty spot where the lamp was and the discolored squares on the wall, he takes a shower for the first time in four days and feels a little bit better. More clearheaded, at least. It’s a small comfort in a mountain of pain and confusion, but he’ll take it. 

He eats for the first time, too, getting take-out delivered. He deliberately chooses a different restaurant than the one that he and Jinyoung used to order from, knowing that the sweet old guy that always took their order would ask him why it was a meal for one instead of two. He doesn’t really feel like explaining his breakup to the old man at the kimbap place. After he finishes eating, he puts something on the TV that he doesn’t really want to watch, just taking comfort in the low hum of the voices as he texts Yugyeom for a while. Despite all the distractions, there’s still the lingering sense of wrongness, like there’s something missing, and it takes him a slow minute to realize that it’s just Jinyoung. The essence of him clung to everything in their apartment when he was inhabiting, in the small ways and the big ones; in ways that Jaebum never even took the time to notice until he couldn’t help it. Sometimes it was the coffee cup sitting perfectly centered on its coaster in the middle of the table, the thinnest layer of abandoned coffee gone cold at the bottom. It was the person-shaped absence of cat hair on the couch, where Nora would stalk back and forth between their shoulders meowing pitifully like she couldn’t decide who to sit with, before she ultimately chose Jaebum and curled up around his shoulders (much to Jinyoung’s dissatisfaction). It was the streaks on the mirror from the messages he scrawled in the fog with his finger while Jaebum was in the shower (ranging from _it’s forever_ to _you look good naked_ to _i’m going to kill you_ to _i love jaebummie :3)_ ; to his poetry scattered around their home office, scribbled frantically on scrap paper like he was afraid he’d forget the words if he didn’t write them down fast enough; to the low sound of his singing voice floating from various rooms as he went about the house, filling up all the empty space with all the warmth of a fire in the winter. 

And now that he’s gone, Jaebum can feel it: the apartment is colder without him. Too quiet, even with the TV on. Without Jinyoung taking up space with the hugeness of his presence, their apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. It just feels like dead space.

 

_______________________________

 

It’s the Monday after Jinyoung left when he finally goes back to work, which means it’s officially been a week. Jaebum tries to shake that thought off as he parks his car in his reserved spot outside the front doors of Im Enterprises, pulling his scarf tighter around his throat before he opens the door. The cold wind coming off the Han blasts him in the face as soon as he steps out, and he hurries toward the massive glass doors with his eyes squinted almost shut against it. Blinking rapidly once he’s inside, he takes off his gloves and runs a hand through his hair as he approaches Soojin at her desk. She looks up at him, face lighting up in surprise. 

“Mr. Im! Welcome back,” she says pleasantly, and he sighs inwardly after he wonders if she knows or not.

“Thank you, Soojin. How has it been without me?”

She grins at him, a distinct sparkle in her dark eyes that Jaebum immediately fell in love with when she was first interviewing for the position. He decides that she probably does know, since she’s never seen them come in separately in the two years she’s worked for him. Soojin doesn’t mention it, though, and Jaebum thinks she’s just being nice. “Absolute madness, Mr. Im.”

He smiles at her, and it’s small, but it’s the first real smile he’s been able to conjure up for anyone in a week. “Please,” he says, stuffing his gloves in the pocket of the black wool peacoat Jinyoung bought him for their anniversary last year. “Call me Jaebum.”

Soojin gasps theatrically, placing both hands over her heart. “Why, Jaebum, it’s a Christmas miracle.”

He grins at her, but inside he feels a little sick at the mention of Christmas. “Soonjin, Christmas was two weeks ago.”

Shrugging, she reaches for the phone when it starts ringing. “Miracles happen everyday, Jaebum. Im Enterprises, this is Soojin. How may I direct your call?”

With a small nod, Jaebum leaves her to her work and heads toward the elevator. He was feeling marginally alright when he came in—there was a steady feeling of anxiety thrumming through his veins at being in the same building as Jinyoung and potentially running into him, but the mention of Christmas shot down whatever good mood was within reach. It was two weeks ago, which was a week before Jinyoung left their apartment, and during week two of Jinyoung not talking to him (during these times, Jaebum realized that he’d been exceptionally anal-retentive about dates—if anyone asked the last time Jinyoung said more than three words to him in the same breath, he could tell them what day it was). It was almost like any other Christmas they had in the last five years: all seven of them together, making a huge dinner as their own little family and exchanging the gifts that they’d gotten each other months in advance. Out of all the days that he and Jinyoung had been fighting, Christmas was the most normal: Jinyoung talked more that day than he had in the week prior, even though it was hardly to Jaebum directly. Watching everyone closely, he noticed them shooting each other questioning glances across the table or over the rim of their mugs whenever the atmosphere turned a little stiff, but no one mentioned it. Jaebum wonders now if Jinyoung had said anything to any of them before that; that they had been fighting and the only reason they were having their usual Christmas is because they were both secretly desperate for a little normalcy. It was strange, too, when they were exchanging gifts and Jinyoung placed a box in Jaebum’s lap quietly before sitting down and looking away.

“Don’t you guys usually exchange gifts after we leave?” BamBam had asked, voice muffled from where he was rubbing half his face in the cashmere sweater that Jinyoung had painstakingly picked out for him.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom had agreed, looking between the two of them and then over at Mark in confusion. “I thought you guys always did that alone, so that you could have lots of sex after while wearing whatever you inevitably bought each other from Prada." 

Jinyoung had gone a little pale, so the blush on his face stood out more than it should have. Launching a throw pillow at Yugyeom’s head, he had muttered “it’s different this year” in a way that made everyone look confused but, ultimately, it was passed over and the evening continued.

The dinging of the elevator signaling his arrival at his floor brings him back to the present, and the memory leaves him feeling a little ill. When he steps out and goes to meet Eric at his desk, Eric looks up from where he’s working on a very elaborate drawing of what looks like some sort of Pokemon. Realizing that it’s Jaebum, he squeaks and hastily covers it up with some important-looking paperwork, turning red all the way up to his ears. “Good morning, Jaebum. I didn’t know you would be back today.” 

“Clearly,” he says, one eyebrow raised and glancing pointedly at the corner of the drawing poking out from underneath the paper.

“Sorry,” Eric mumbles, setting down the pencil he was using and looking up into Jaebum’s face. With a grimace he says, “jeez, Jaebum, you look terrible.” 

Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Eric.”

“I just meant—you look really tired.” Then, quieter, like he’s afraid someone might hear even though it’s always just been the two of them on this floor, “have you talked to him?” 

Deflating a little, Jaebum starts to unwind the scarf from around his neck. It had been his gift from Jinyoung for Christmas, the only one that he’d given him. The treated wool is a little itchy when it clutches it nervously in his hands. “Not since…not since he left, no.” He doesn’t add anything else, and after a moment Eric nods. 

“Got ya. Well, I’m glad you’re back, at least. Now I’ll have someone to bother instead of just drawing Pokemon all day.”

Leaning down, Jaebum moves the paperwork on top of Eric’s drawing to uncover it. It’s actually pretty good, although he’d never actually admit that he’s impressed to Eric because his assistant’s ego is big enough already. “Is this supposed to be Ninetales?”

“Yes,” Eric preens, obviously happy that Jaebum recognized the Pokemon.

He taps the intricately drawn tails with his finger. “You only drew eight.”

Eric erupts into protests and leans down to inspect his drawing, and Jaebum just turns toward his office, finding that smiling is becoming a little easier.

 

The day drags a little, and by one o’clock he’s tired of answering emails. His eyes are burning from looking at his computer screen for so long, and he rubs them tiredly. Jaebum hasn’t left the top floor of the building all day, and he’s starting to feel a little cagey. Standing up, he stretches and moves to stand in front of the window, closing his eyes and trying to find some peace in the faint warmth of the sunshine to quell the rising anxiety in his chest. Eric has been suspiciously quiet at his desk all day, only coming into his office once or twice with questions that he could have answered himself if he had Googled it. Jaebum thinks that Eric was just trying to check on him, which is sweet. Eric isn’t the perfect assistant, but he’s a damn good one, and Jaebum takes a moment to be thankful for him. He needs all the good feelings he can get right now.

After looking out at Seoul across the Han for a while, Jaebum steps out of his office to go talk to Eric at his desk. When he approaches, Eric’s typing madly, fingers flying across the keys at a speed that Jaebum is pretty sure he couldn’t even acheive. 

“You look like a mad scientist when you type like that,” Jaebum says, and Eric jumps, clearly unaware that Jaebum had suddenly appeared.

“Jesus, you scared me,” Eric complains, eyes flicking nervously to Jaebum and back at the computer screen.

“What are you doing?” Jaebum asks, genuinely curious. Hopefully getting some insight into what Eric does all day (besides drawing anatomically inaccurate Pokemon) when he’s not taking calls or making appointments will offer him some sort of distraction.

“Ahh…” he hesitates, clearly scrambling for an answer, and Jaebum cocks his head. “Just, ah, working on an essay for school.”

This makes Jaebum immediately suspicious. “Didn’t you graduate a year ago?”

Caught, Eric reddens. “You have a good memory.” 

“Eric, I was at your graduation.”

Eric sighs. 

“What are you actually doing?” Jaebum asks again, a little more stern this time, and then realizes that Eric’s been a lot more accepting of his madness than other assistants might have been, and he softens. “You know I’m not going to be mad if you’re messing around on the computer. You sit around and screen calls for me all day. I know that’s not exactly time consuming.”

Eric swallows, looking a little uncomfortable. Eyes on the screen, he says, “I was talking to Jinyoung.”

The air leaves Jaebum like he’d been hit in the stomach. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Eric apologizes, and looks back up at him. “I didn’t know how you were going to feel about me still talking to him over the inter-office IM, so my first instinct was to lie immediately. I realize that you are my boss and that saying it was for school when you were clearly at my graduation was the worst lie I could have come up with on the spot.” 

Reluctantly, Jaebum smiles a little. “Yeah, it was pretty bad.” 

“I’ll work on being a better liar in the future.”

“Don’t bother,” Jaebum replies, suddenly getting an idea. “You’ll always be a bad liar, just like you’re a bad Pokemon trainer.”

Eric laughs, and Jaebum slaps a hand on the desk as a farewell before disappearing back into his office. His heart slams against his chest as he closes the door and crosses the room back to his computer. This seems like a bad idea, and it probably is, it feels like the worst idea he’s come up with recently (except maybe drunk dialing Jinyoung—that was a colossal mistake) but he’s propelled forward by the desperation of getting any sort of communication between the two of them.

A year ago one of the IT guys suggested they have a software developer come up with a program for them to be able to communicate faster in between departments, and thus their inter-office IM service was born. He’s never used it himself—he never had a reason to, really: Eric handled most of his phone calls, and anything that Eric couldn’t answer, Jaebum preferred to handle over the phone or in person, anyway. But the program was installed on his fancy computer anyway, and he was given a username and a password even though he complained loudly that he didn’t need it and was never going to use it. But the head of the IT department, a tall, lanky guy with ears that stick out further than Jinyoung’s, insisted, and he relented. He at least was given the option of letting the employees chose their own usernames or having them be a default portmanteau of their legal names. Jaebum, easily lost by the vast number of people working under him, stayed pragmatic and opted for the latter.

Booting up the program for the first time, he’s relieved to see that it’s as clean and uncomplicated as the decor of their building: nice and minimalist, with little to no distracting noise. He’s still not sure what he’s about to do is a good idea, but he clicks through the log in screens until he’s face with an empty screen and a sidebar listing all the different departments in their alphabetical order, with small arrows signaling a drop-down menu with the list of employees in that department. Scrolling through the list, he finds Eric’s name under “Staff Assistants” and clicks on it. It opens a new box in the empty space to the left of the department list, a small blinking cursor waiting for him to type something. 

 **IMBUM:** Eric? How does this work?  
**NAMERIC:** oh no  
**NAMERIC:** are you actually using this?  
**IMBUM:** I work here, don’t I?  
**NAMERIC:** i’m amazed you even knew how to open this  
**IMBUM:** Nice. At least I know it’s working, since I can hear you typing. 

He hears Eric laughing from outside his closed door.

 **IMBUM** : Do the employees actually use this? This is so convenient.  
**NAMERIC:** welcome to the new age, dad  
**IMBUM:** Shut up. Go back to work.  
**NAMERIC:** also, letting the IT guy set up your username was a bad idea  
**NAMERIC:** it reads as “i’m bum”  
**NAMERIC:** i’m gonna send him flowers  
**NAMERIC:** :-)  
**NAMERIC has closed the chat window.**

Jaebum rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s better than having let him choose. Had he been made to choose, he probably would have went with something infinitely more awful, like NorasDaddy. Which reads amazingly disgusting without proper context, as BamBam had so lovingly pointed out the day he found out it was Jaebum’s password. 

“That’s weird,” BamBam had said, ducking to avoid the swipe of Jaebum’s flat palm aiming for the back of his head.

Having an acute understanding of how it works, he goes back through the list of departments in the sidebar until he finds “Human Resources”. Clicking the drop down menu, he scans through the few names that are there until he finds the one he’s looking for. PARKJY glares at him in a stark black against the off-white of the background, and his stomach suddenly feels like it’s full of rocks. Clicking on it, it brings up a window to replace the one with his messages to Eric, until he’s again left with a blank screen and a blinking cursor. The longer he stares at it, the more he feels like it’s mocking him and his inability to think of anything to say to the person he’s been in love with for the past 5 years.

Finally, after ten excrutiating minutes of hesitating, he takes a deep breath and goes for it.

 **IMBUM:** Jinyoung.

He didn’t notice it before, but underneath his message are three little animated dots that signal the other person is typing. His anxiety skyrockets, watching the three dots get bigger and then get smaller as Jinyoung types back. 

 **PARKJY:** You can’t be serious. 

Even through the faceless computer, Jaebum can feel the harshness behind the words.

 **IMBUM:** What do you mean?  
**PARKJY:** You have never used this. But now you’re suddenly using it to talk to me?  
**IMBUM:** I haven’t heard from you in a week.  
**PARKJY:** I know. That was intentional.

 _It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._ Blowing out a deep breath, Jaebum leans back in his chair and considers what the ramifications of this are going to be. He already feels the sting, so it’s not like it can get any worse, and he misses Jinyoung so much that even this is worth it, and it tastes bitter in his mouth but it’s better than the utter tastelessness of everything else.

 **IMBUM:** I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.  
**PARKJY:** I’m fine. So is Nora.  
**IMBUM:** I miss her.

It’s not a lie, he does miss her. He misses stepping over her as she winds herself around his ankles, meowing pathetically for him to pet her. Jaebum hopes that Nora is at least a safe topic for them to pursue. 

 **PARKJY:** Do you need anything from me, Mr. Im? I’m afraid I have work to do.

The dismissal is swift, and for the first time since Jinyoung left it makes him angry instead of making him feel like he’d been hit.

 **IMBUM:** I do, actually. Can you come to my office? I need to speak with you.

It’s mean, and he knows it’s mean, but he can’t help it—Jinyoung’s been so cold to him, so distant, each dismissal another nail in the coffin. It’s been building up in him for weeks; the explosion came when he destroyed half their apartment in a fit of rage so intense he’s surprised no one called the police. But each of Jinyoung’s tiny refusals to talk to him or to try and help him understand why he up and left without even so much as a goodbye have been stacking up against him until Jaebum feels ready to suffocate under them. And if he can’t have the satisfaction of knowing how Jinyoung really feels right now, he can have the satisfaction of being angry about it.

 **PARKJY:** I’m very busy, Mr. Im. I don’t think it’s wise.  
**IMBUM:** As your boss, Mr. Park, I request that you come to my office immediately.  
**PARKJY:** Technically, Mrs. Hoang is head of my department.  
**IMBUM:** Whose name is on the building, Jinyoung?  
**PARKJY:** You’re being an asshole. What a surprise.  
**PARKJY has closed the chat window.**

The satisfaction of getting a rise out of him is fleeting, because a few minutes later he hears Eric exclaiming in surprise outside his office door. There’s a conversation that follows his initial shock, their voices too low to hear, but then the heavy oak door of his office is swinging open. Jinyoung stands in the doorway, dressed like he always does for work: a pastel colored dress shirt tucked into well fitting dress pants, khaki colored today instead of the black ones, and his skinny black tie. When Jaebum just looks at him for a moment, like he’s not really sure if what he’s seeing is real, Jinyoung sighs in exasperation and pushes his glasses up his nose before coming all the way in the room and shutting the door behind him. The sunlight pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling window behind them illuminates Jinyoung’s face in a way that Jaebum can clearly see the shadows under his eyes and the swelling of his bottom lip from where he’s currently worrying at it with his teeth.

Jaebum opens his mouth to say something, but before he can start, Jinyoung interrupts with his hand up. “Before we begin, can you just tell me how many times you’re going to pull this? Just so I know, and can prepare myself.”

“What do you mean?" 

Jinyoung rolls his eyes in a way that conveys years worth of attitude and practice, just enough that Jaebum feels his nerves ignite with irritation. “You know exactly what I mean, Jaebum. You pulling this stunt where you pull your power and make me come to your office just so that you can try and talk to me.”

“You showed up, didn’t you?” Jaebum retorts hotly, leaning back in his chair while Jinyoung lets his head drop back in annoyance, eyes closed.

“What do you want?” Jinyoung says, and his features are tight when he looks back down at Jaebum, still a safe distance away from the desk.

“I want you to talk to me.”

Jinyoung’s jaw tightens, nostrils flaring and he looks away for a moment. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why?” 

There must be something in his voice, because Jinyoung’s mouth drops open slightly in surprise and he looks back at him. They look at each other for a moment in silence, the only movement in the room coming from the dust motes that dance and spin in the shafts of sunlight spilling on the floor around them. Finally Jinyoung drops his arms, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. When he puts his glasses back on and looks at Jaebum again, his face is infinitely more tired that it was when he came in, the angry demeanor gone and an exhausted one taking its place. “Because I need time to think about this. About us,” he clarifies, studying the ceiling like it’s something interesting. “About what I want.” 

“You’ve been telling me for the last five years that the only thing you ever wanted was us,” Jaebum says, but the words feel empty. 

Jinyoung just looks sad now. “Things change.”

“Not if you don’t let them.” He’s starting to get desperate now. It’s a generic rebuttal that holds no weight. He knows it, and Jinyoung knows it.

“What we want and what we get are often two separate things, Jaebum.” The way he says it has so many double meanings that Jaebum can’t decipher them all, he can’t begin to understand what that means in the context of their relationship, and at the confused look on Jaebum’s face, Jinyoung’s just closes off entirely. It feels like something has snapped, something irrevocable; panic swells in Jaebum’s chest when Jinyoung turns to leave. 

“Wait!” Jaebum says, and he stands up so quickly he almost knocks his chair over. “Jinyoung, wait, what does that mean?” 

Jinyoung turns to him, one hand on the door. “The fact that you don’t even know just goes to show me that what I’m doing is the right thing, if you can’t understand that right now,” and then he’s gone, the door shutting quietly behind him. There’s no hushed whispers with Eric outside the door; the silence is so heavy that the can hear the elevator when the doors slide shut down the hallway, taking Jinyoung down, away from him again.

 

__________________________________

 

A few miserable days go by before Jaebum tries again.

This time he has Eric call Jinyoung into his office over the phone, and Eric, for good reason, looks uncomfortable. Standing in front of Jaebum’s desk, he wrings his hands and fidgets. “Jaebum, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He looked really upset last time he left, and you didn’t look much better.” 

Without looking up from the papers on his desk, Jaebum waves him off. “Just do it, Eric. We’re both grown men. We can handle it.”

Muttering something under his breath that Jaebum doesn’t catch, Eric slips out the door and lets it fall shut behind him, none-too-gently. The heavy noise of it makes Jaebum jump.

Minutes later, the door is swinging open in a similar way to the time before this, only this time Jinyoung looks livid.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Jaebum,” he says venomously, stalking into the room right up to the desk, the door slamming shut on its own. 

“Does anyone in this building know how to close a door quietly?”

Jinyoung slams a hand down on the desk, and Jaebum’s head jerks up to look at him. His features are still lined with exhaustion, but right now they’re schooled into a perfectly composed look of barely controlled anger, one that Jaebum is familiar enough with to know that it isn’t faked. “Shut up. Stop it. I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t believe me?” Jaebum scoffs, affronted. He smooths a hand down the front of his shirt, fixing his tie. “I haven’t even said anything to you and you’re already telling me to shut up. Which is, if I may add, very unprofessional.” 

Jinyoung makes a noise like he’s choking, which Jaebum thinks might have been an attempt at a sardonic laugh. “This has nothing to do with being professional, and you goddamn know it. If you didn’t run this place, I’d report you to HR so fast it would make your head spin.” 

The anger is positively coming off Jinyoung in waves, and Jaebum notices that he’s starting to sweat through his pale purple dress shirt a little. “Care to tell me why you came in here yelling?”

“You—” Jinyoung makes a frustrated noise, picking his hand up off the desk and shoving it angrily through his hair. “I can’t believe you made Eric call me in here.”

Jaebum’s eyebrows come up in confusion. “Last I checked, he’s my assistant. That’s his job.” 

“It’s more than that, and you know it!” Jinyoung shouts, face flushing red. He quiets himself, knowing that Eric is still outside and can hear him if he shouts. “He cares about you, Jaebum, and you dragged him right into this where he doesn’t belong because you’re cruel and selfish.” 

It feels like a slap, and Jaebum retaliates with, “I’m being cruel? Me? I’m not the one who moved out of our apartment with so much as a word and then comes into my office shouting at me when I haven’t even said anything. You also took my cat.” 

Jinyoung’s eyes go impossibly wide, shining like he’s going to cry, but then they’re shutting into a near squint until he’s fixed Jaebum to his seat with a glare. “I took Nora because you would have forgotten to feed her until she died.” Jinyoung casts his eyes down to where there’s still the remains of a bandage tied around Jaebum’s knuckles. A look flashes across his features that Jaebum doesn’t have time to decipher and then Jinyoung is looking at him, face blank. “Either that or she would have just gotten in the way during your fit.”

His blood runs cold. “Are you saying I would have intentionally hurt Nora?” 

Jinyoung shrugs. “I don’t know. You broke almost everything else in the apartment, who’s to say she wouldn’t have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Get out,” Jaebum says, voice as hard and cold as iron. “Don’t you ever fucking imply that I would hurt Nora, on purpose or on accident. And you accused me of being cruel.” His entire body is so stiff from where he jumped out of his chair it’s almost painful. Jaebum puts his hands flat on his desk to keep them from balling into fists. “I can’t believe you.”

Jinyoung just looks at him, one eyebrow raised. It feels like a standoff, both of them with their guns drawn and aimed, neither one ready to shoot until it looks like the other one will. But in the grand scheme of things, Jaebum’s anger has always been an entity of its own, a monkey on his back with sharp teeth and claws that no one was ever safe from. Jinyoung always flinched first. 

With a noise of disgust, Jinyoung pushes his glasses up and turns to leave. “Everywhere you go, you leave a trail of people that you’ve hurt behind you, ever since we were kids. You never learn, do you?” Jinyoung opens the door, and when he looks back at Jaebum, his heart drops. Jinyoung just looks sad, so sad—his face seems lined with years of heartache, even though he’s so young and their last five years together had been so happy; it seems so out of place, a world of sadness on Jinyoung’s face, and the sight of it breaks Jaebum’s heart all over again. “I hope you’re happy,” is the last thing he says before he leaves again. 

Jaebum sits down heavily in his chair, hands shaking when he runs them through his hair. Jinyoung is right, of course, just like he always is—he should have never made Eric do that, and in the process he damaged another good thing in his life. Closing his eyes and pushing the heels of his hands into them so hard he sees stars, he wonders when this nightmare will be over.

 

__________________________

 

 

The third time he tries to get Jinyoung to come to his office (even after the clusterfuck of the last time it happened), he calls him directly at his desk.

The line rings a few times, and when the line clicks like it’d been picked up, he opens his mouth to speak before being promptly cut off by an automated message:

“Hi, you’ve reached the desk of Park Jinyoung at Im Enterprises. I am currently on unpaid leave, and will not be able to be reached during this time. All inquiries should be made to the head of the HR department, Hoang Jihae. Her extension is 1303. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.”

Jaebum feels his heart practically stop, and he drops the receiver and then jumps when it clatters loudly on his desk. Even though he holds the top seat at the company, he was never ridiculously strict on employees taking vacations, and he always left it to the heads of the departments to approve or deny time off. It was just something that he never needed to be a part of, unless it was someone who worked under him directly, like the department heads themselves, or Eric. So he shouldn’t be surprised that Jinyoung managed to get time off without finding out about it until right now, but there’s a sick feeling in his stomach, regardless.

He puts the phone back down in the cradle and thinks with a note of finality that this is really it.

It’s over.

 

__________________________________

 

 

A month goes by, then two.

He doesn’t hear from Jinyoung once. He’s not surprised—Jaebum has tried to reach out multiple times, only to be shut down each time. That doesn’t surprise him either, and after the fourth time, he gave up. Anytime he called, Jinyoung answered, but seemed to change his mind before Jaebum could even get a word out and then the line would be disconnected. He doesn’t see much of Mark, or BamBam, and he definitely doesn’t see any of Jackson. Mark and BamBam feel bad for him, at least, and he feels relieved that their abrupt separation didn’t totally split their rag-tag family apart again, and getting lunch with Mark and BamBam several times in the two months that passes between the last time he sees Jinyoung comfort him, in a small way. 

“We’re not any less of your friend anymore,” BamBam reassures him one day over lunch. He’s got kimchi shoved into his mouth, so it sounds more like wenotanlessohyohfrienanymoh as he mumbles around it. Jaebum, fluent in BamBam chewing and talking at the same time, just nods. 

“I’m glad,” he says, and pauses to shovel the last of his budae jjigae into his mouth. Patting his mouth with a towel, he looks at BamBam across the table seriously. “I was really worried that I wouldn’t hear from you or Mark anymore when Jinyoung and I separated.” That’s how he phrases it now—that they separated, not that Jinyoung left him unannounced. It makes it easier, even though it’s a lie, and he never has to explain it for long.

BamBam nods, hair flopping down into his eyes. He pushes it back impatiently, and worries his plump bottom lip in between his teeth while he decides on how to respond. Finally, he says, “I know, and for a minute I wasn’t really sure how to react, and if I was going to keep seeing you. But then I realized that over the past five years, it’s always been the seven of us, and not the two weird groups we had in college. We’re still a family, even if you and Jinyoung are going through a rough time right now. At least, to me we are.”

Jaebum thinks it’s a lot more than just a rough patch, but the sentiment from BamBam is enough to make his eyes burn with tears. He blinks them back and reaches across the table to put a hand on BamBam’s wrist. “I’m glad you feel that way. That’s what I was hoping for.” Taking his hand back, he signals to their waiter to bring them the check. “I would have missed your obnoxious flailing, besides. You’ve grown increasingly more pasta-like, did you know?” 

With a laugh, BamBam throws his napkin at him.

Despite not seeing them as much as he would like to, he talks to them frequently enough that he’s caught up with their lives. He knows that BamBam is getting promoted to lead technician at the same pet hospital that Youngjae works at as their head veterinarian. He also knows that Mark just got a new job as a bouncer at a club, which seems like such an odd job for him, being a notable Seoul photographer after picking up a few tricks from Lilian Baxter.

“It’s just a gig, you know? Something to do when I don’t have shoots,” he had said when Jaebum asked him about it at coffee one night, the two of them hanging back from Bambam, Youngjae, and Yugyeom, who were kicking dirty snow at each other like schoolchildren.

“What club is it at?” Jaebum had asked curiously, taking a sip of his coffee and wishing, painfully, that Jackson and Jinyoung were among them. 

Mark had looked at him then, almost as if he was wary to answer. “Oh, one of the many clubs in downtown. You know how it is,” he had said, and Jaebum wanted to say No, I don’t know how it is, why are you avoiding the question? but decides that if Mark is being evasive for a reason, he’s not going to push it. If it were important, Mark would have told him.

Jaebum also patches things up with Eric, which didn’t take long, because Eric is a saint. And despite being content, seeing (most of) the people he cares about, not having lost everyone, there’s still a sadness that clings to him, one that he puts on like a old sweater every single morning that he wakes up and the other side of the bed is still empty. Everyone knows that he’s still not over Jinyoung, that it’s possible he never will be (alternately, the only clue he gets about how Jinyoung feels is when BamBam accidentally spills the beans that Jinyoung is just as miserable as he is, which should satisfy him, but it only makes him feel worse), but no one really mentions it. They try to keep their lives as normal as they can with the circumstances they were given.

That is, until Eric gets sick of it. 

Jaebum hasn’t even made it to his office yet when Eric is slamming both of his hands down on his desk, making Jaebum jump.

“What? Are you alright?”

“I’m sick of this,” Eric says, and for a terrifying moment, Jaebum thinks that Eric is about to quit. He opens his mouth to protest when Eric continues, “I can’t watch you mope anymore, Jaebum. It’s almost impossible to diminish my sunshine-y nature but you’re even bumming me out.”

He can’t help it—Eric’s sudden outburst makes him laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I was moping.”

Eric launches a pen at him, which he ducks expertly and hears it plink against the door of his office. “Yes you did. You’ve been moping for two months. Do you know what it’s like to come into your office to tell you that you have a meeting only to walk in on you making sad eyes at the picture of you and Jinyoung on your desk everyday?”

“I don’t even have a picture of Jinyoung and I on my desk anymore,” he says, but it’s a lie and his face reddens when Eric just shoots him a look that screams yeah, okay, pal. “Okay, I do, but I don’t make sad eyes at it.”

“Do I need to mention the messages I’ve heard you leave on his office phone even though you know he isn’t here?” 

Jaebum swallows and doesn’t answer.

“Exactly,” Eric says triumphantly. “That’s why I’m taking you out tonight. As soon as we’re off work, we’re going out.” 

“What?”

“We. Are. Going. Out. Tonight.” Eric repeats, punctuating each word by pointing at himself and then Jaebum between each stop.

“Eric, you’re nice and all but—”

“NOT AS A DATE,” Eric practically screams, eyes wide and both hands up defensively. “Jeez, Jaebum, you’re not even my type.”

“You’re gay?” 

Eric just shrugs. “Isn’t everyone, even just a little?” 

Jaebum doesn’t have an answer to this, so he just keeps staring.

Sitting back down at his computer, Eric shoots him a look. “Like I said, as soon as we’re done here, we’re going out. Drop your car off at home, and take a cab downtown.” 

“Where are we even going?” 

Eric just grins. “You’ll see.”

 

As it turns out, Eric takes him to a gay club. It’s not the first time he’s ever been to one—he’s been on the planet for 27 years, it was bound to happen at some point. But he has to admit, standing outside in the queue for the club in the lingering coldness of a March night with his assistant is a little weird.

Eric elbows him when the line starts moving, grinning wildly at him. “C’mon, don’t look like you’re going to a torture dungeon. You’re going to a club to watch sweaty cute guys dance on stage in tiny pairs of underwear, with your good pal Eric Nam.” 

This feels more like the sort of thing he would be doing with Mark or maybe even Jackson, not his assistant. But he just offers Eric a scathing look that makes Eric roll his eyes and look forward. Jaebum pulls his peacoat a little closer, wishing he had brought a scarf—it’s not snowing anymore, and the days are progressively getting warmer, but there’s still a lingering chill in the air that warrants bundling up. It doesn’t help that it started raining on the way here, so the streets are wet, stagnant puddles of water reflecting the neon signs of the various clubs and bars on the ground like hundreds of scattered mirrors. The streets are busy for a Thursday night, and Jaebum is surprised that they’ve had to wait in line so long to get in—the club Eric dragged him to is called Rage, the neon sign done in a curving script that hurts his eyes to look at. The dark red of the buzzing neon splashes blood-colored shadows onto the faces of the people standing beneath it. 

The whole thing is so pretentious he could vomit.

After another half hour of waiting that Jaebum spends wondering how far he could make it down the street before Eric lost sight of him, it’s finally their turn to go in. The bouncers outside check their IDs, which feels excessively formal—Eric is a young guy, but it’s abundantly clear that he’s been over the legal drinking age for a few years at least. But the bouncers just wave them in, the one looking at Jaebum’s driver’s license raising his eyebrows appreciatively at the name.

“Im, huh? Any relation to Im Enterprises?” 

“Yes,” Jaebum says, vaguely uncomfortable that he’s getting recognized at a gay club. “It’s mine.”

“Damn,” the bouncer whistles, and he ducks his head to make eye contact with someone inside, and nods his head quickly. “See that guy, there?” the bouncer moves closer and points at someone standing just inside the other side of the lobby, by the bar. Jaebum nods. “Go to him, tell him who you are. He’ll hook you up with good seats.” With that, he claps Jaebum hard enough on the back to make him sputter, and then Eric is leading him inside by the elbow.

The lobby is dark, and they walk through it toward until they finally emerge into the main room of the club, the low light making Jaebum blink to adjust.

He wants to leave immediately. There are people everywhere—it’s not exactly crowded, not as much as it would be on the weekends, probably, but it’s still pretty packed. There’s a small set of stairs cut into the floor that leads into a dropped-down floor, which holds the T-shaped stage with the longest cat-walk Jaebum has ever seen, and he’s walked Fashion Week. There’s a brightly gleaming silver pole at the very end of it that disappears into the dark rafters of the ceiling, and the whole place has the cloying scent of perfume, too much cologne, alcohol, and desperation. Looking at the stage, which is currently void of any dancers, he notices that the low red and blue lights glint off glitter, making the whole black surface of it twinkle like the sky at night. 

He hates it. He hates it, so much.

Eric nudges him again, pulling him eagerly toward the man standing at the bar. The bar’s surface is the same as the stage, glitter imbedded in the black vinyl surface, sending bright pinpricks of light into his eyes when the overheads catch on the flecks. Jaebum just leans an elbow on it, eyes scanning over the rainbow display of bottles behind the bartender, more types and brands of alcohol than Jaebum has ever seen in his life. He hears Eric mention that he’s with Im Jaebum from Im Enterprises, and Jaebum looks over briefly to prove his identity before looking away again. The bartender suddenly appears, mercifully dressed in a black shirt and black jeans. 

“Need a drink?” he asks, and his smile is blinding. Jaebum just looks toward the ceiling.

“Or five,” he says without thinking. “Just one, please,” he says, and orders a straight whiskey because he’s pretty sure it’s the only thing that’s going to get him through this. A few minutes later, Eric is tapping on his elbow. “C’mon, he’s gonna lead us to our seats. The show’s about to start.” 

Setting his empty glass on the counter, he throws some bills down next to it before he’s following Eric down onto the main floor, weaving passed tables of men and women all waiting with their drinks for the dancer (or dancers, who fucking knows) to come out. The whole thing just makes him feel vaguely ill, but then they’re being seated so close to the stage that Jaebum can reach out and run his fingers along it and he resigns that it’s too late to run and he just has to tough it out.

Before Eric can make some weird remark to him, the main lights dim and then just the stage is illuminated in an alarming shade of blood red, which, for a club called Rage he guesses it’s fitting. Whistles and short bursts of clapping make their way around the room before everyone settles into a hush, voices still floating quietly back and forth across the room. The first song starts to play with the heavy bass so strong Jaebum can feel it in his chest, and he grabs the seat of the chair by his leg for support. It’s “Lady Luck” by EXO, a group that Jinyoung was almost obsessively fond of, and Jaebum vaguely remembers that this song is incredible sexual. His stomach does a flip when the first dancer comes out, a tall guy with broad shoulders and a small waist, his whole body glistening like he’d ben dunked in oil before he started. This actually makes Jaebum laugh, and he claps a hand over his mouth before it gets away from him. It’s ridiculous, all of it: the gyrating, the way the man constantly runs his hands down his torso and over his crotch, outfitted in the smallest pair of purple spandex Jaebum has ever seen.

The whole thing becomes more and more humorous to him the longer it goes on, and Jaebum realizes that he might not hate Eric for this after all. He has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing—the dancing is pretty good, and the guy has great rhythm for sure, but it’s just so ridiculous—there’s so much lip biting and violent thrusting that Jaebum can’t even focus on whether or not he thinks the guy is attractive. The song slowly peters out, the dancer slowly going around and bending over at ridiculous angles to sweep the various denominations of bills from the stage that Jaebum hadn’t even realized people were throwing. 

The next two are just as bad, if not worse: the third one actually makes him start laughing out loud, and he gets shot a lot of looks from the people sitting around them as the dancer just slowly gyrates his hips in various places on the stage for the duration of three songs. Eric is laughing next to him, more so because he’s actually kind of uncomfortable but also because this probably wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, and he’s just glad Jaebum is having some sort of a good time. When the last song fades, Jaebum is bent over, arms around his thighs and positively dying, tears streaming from his eyes as he laughs. “Oh, Eric,” he gasps, burying his face into his legs, still laughing. “This is too good.”

Eric just slaps him on the back playfully, which sends him into another fit of laughter. He wonders momentarily if the bartender made his drink too strong, if he’s actually enjoying himself, or if this whole thing with Jinyoung has finally just made him snap. Sitting up as the lights dim and another song begins to fade in, he wipes his eyes and looks at Eric. “Oh, my god,” Jaebum says. “Thank you, I think I needed this.”

Eric just looks at him, grinning. “I knew you would,” he says, and he glances over at the stage as the dancer comes out of the shadows, but Jaebum’s stomach hurts so he doesn’t look over. Eric does a double take, eyes frozen suddenly on the stage and Jaebum watches as all the color drains from Eric’s face until, even in the dimness, he looks white as a sheet.

“Oh, shit.”

It’s uttered with such horror that the smile slips from Jaebum’s face immediately. “Eric? What’s wrong?”

Eric’s head whips toward him so fast that Jaebum leans back like he’s afraid Eric is going to headbutt him. The sick look on Eric’s face sends a hot stab of panic down Jaebum’s back, and he grabs Eric’s wrist, ready to stand up and yank him out of there. Before he can, Eric’s words come out all at once, pushing into each other like he doesn’t have enough breath to say them one by one. “I swear to god I didn’t know, I had no idea, I knew he was dancing but I didn’t know it was here, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—Oh, my god, let’s go—“ Eric jumps out of his chair in a panic, knocking it over. “Let’s just go, let’s go, we can go home, I—“ 

Jaebum just stares at him in disbelief. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the dancer start to move to some slower American R&B song, but he doesn’t look over, worried about Eric. He grabs his wrist, putting pressure on it to force him to focus. “Eric, what is wrong?”

Eric sits backs down heavily after Jaebum rights his chair, and then Eric is frantically gripping the arm of Jaebum’s chair so hard his knuckles are white. “I swear to God, I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

Eric doesn’t answer, and he casts a quick glance at the stage again before looking back at him, eyes wide. Jaebum turns his head and then Eric is saying “no, don’t!” at the same time Jaebum lays his eyes on the dancer.

For whatever reason, the first thing he notices is the torso: tight and lean, with slim hips that have sharp bones that stick out over the top of the waistband of the black boxer briefs. With a start, Jaebum realizes that it’s the same brand he wears, and he knows they’re not cheap. Eric is sitting next to him with his hands over his face, mumbling _“ohgodohgodohgod dontkillme dontkillmedontkillmedontkillme ididntknowisweartogod”_ over and over. Then there’s the chest, thin but strong, with collarbones that Jaebum has dreamed about a thousand times over and bruised with his teeth a thousand more. Like he’s in a dream, he trails his eyes up the skin of the dancer’s neck until he’s looking at Jinyoung’s face, dark eyes shadowed with a dark, glittery purple and enough kohl eyeliner smudged around them that Jaebum can see it from where he’s sitting in the audience. Jinyoung’s body is covered in a light dusting of glitter, the white spotlight on him as he moves, slow and steady.

Jaebum lets go of Eric’s wrist, but his hand stays where it is, his whole body frozen in place. He blinks once. Twice. Three times. He’s trying to wake himself up, but he can’t, he keeps seeing Jinyoung throw his body into an expertly choreographed dance routine that makes him look like he’s moving in slow motion. Jaebum feels his mouth open, like he’s going to say something, but there’s nothing—surely he’s dreaming, then, right? You can never scream while you’re dreaming, and the scream that crawls up his throat curls up and dies there, never leaving his mouth. All of the noise of the place slows down until it sounds distorted, like someone pressing down on the needle of a record player while the record spins. The entire world narrows down to where Jinyoung performs some complicated dance move that makes him looks like he’s doing ballet instead of dancing mostly naked on a stage while bills arrange themselves haphazardly around his feet.

Jinyoung’s eyes, which had been closed until this moment, finally open, and as soon as they do Jaebum explodes back into life. 

He’s out of his chair in a flash, and a sick-looking Eric barely has time to catch it before it goes slamming onto the floor. Some feeling that he can’t describe flushes its way down his body, flashing him hot and cold, hot and cold, until he feels like he’s going to faint. It’s not quite devastation and it’s not quite rage, but a middle man between the two, the ugly twin of the feeling he had when he destroyed their apartment when he first realized that Jinyoung had left. Without warning Jinyoung’s head turns, and they make eye contact at the same time that Jaebum is leaning toward the stage, one arm out like he’s going to catch himself on it. Jinyoung stumbles in his routine, a hiss sounding through the crowd as they notice, and then he’s just standing there, staring open-mouthed. 

The feeling raises its head again, and Jaebum slaps a hand down on the stage hard enough that it burns his palm. Jinyoung winces like he heard it over the music, and then his complexion fades until it matches Eric’s, deathly white. Jaebum can’t see his own face, but judging by the way Jinyoung is looking at him, he’s sure there’s some sort of madness written on it that can’t be described. He can feel the wideness of his eyes in his face, eyebrows arched so high it’s getting uncomfortable. The music keeps playing though, no one upstairs realizing there’s a problem yet. 

Jaebum finally finds his voice, and it erupts out of him with enough force that it makes his throat feel raw. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

If it was possible for Jinyoung to lose more color, he would have. Jaebum can see the way he starts to shake all over, knees knocking together a couple of times in a way that only seems possible in cartoons. “What are you doing here?” Jinyoung shouts back, more so to be heard over the music. 

Jaebum just stares, trying to convince himself he’s dreaming.

Jinyoung just keeps looking at him, and looking at him, and looking at him. It feels like his eyes are burning holes through Jaebum’s head, the eye contact they’re holding each other in feeling like a brutality. The anger that finally finds its way back to him feels senseless, and he’s glad that there’s no one immediately around him, afraid of what his body would do to someone that tried to stop him.

“Is this what you’ve been doing?” Jaebum yells, and the painful twist of Jinyoung’s features brings him a self-hating sort of pleasure. “Did Jackson tell you to do this?”

The accusation has Jinyoung on his knees in front of Jaebum in a flash, a hand fisted angrily in the lapel of Jaebum’s peacoat. The music is finally cutting out, someone realizing there’s an issue, and Jaebum can faintly hear the sound of security radioing each other from different parts of the club. Jinyoung’s face is twisted into an ugly snarl of anger, one that satisfies Jaebum deep in a masochistic part of himself—this is the most real emotion he’s seen from Jinyoung in months, and he’s dying for it. Jinyoung leans in so close that their mouths are mere inches a part, and he can feel Jinyoung’s breath ghosting across his lips in a way that he’s been aching for. Jaebum’s lips just quirk into a sharp grin, his tongue flashing out to wet his lips, and he watches triumphantly as Jinyoung’s eyes move to follow it before looking back into his eyes. Yanking harder on Jaebum’s coat, he spits, “this has nothing to do with Jackson. He didn’t have any say in this, and neither do you.”

Jaebum just reaches up to cup the back of Jinyoung’s head with one hand gently, and then Jinyoung drops him like he’d been burned, sitting back on his heels. Jaebum is suddenly jostled from behind, a strong pair of hands grabbing both of his arms in a painful, vise-like grip. “A problem here, Jinyoung-ah?”

Jinyoung doesn’t look at the bouncer, his heavily lined eyes finding Jaebum’s instead, burning. “Get him out of here. Now.”

Jaebum doesn’t argue, and he doesn’t struggle when the bouncer drags him backward by his coat after letting go of his arms. Jaebum watches Jinyoung the whole way, even when he drops his head into his hands and tugs painfully at his hair before standing up and disappearing off stage. Eric is frantically calling to him from somewhere behind the bouncer, but his head his buzzing so loud that he can’t understand what he’s saying. A few seconds later there’s a blast of cold air against his face and the bouncer shoves once, hard. Jaebum stumbles over the doorstep in the alley on the side of the building, hitting the brick wall of the building face first. Blood explodes in his mouth as he bites his lip and it spills down his chin, hot and quick. He looks at the bouncer, who watches him carefully until a hand appears on his shoulder and sends him away. Leaning against the wall and breathing heavily like he’d been fighting instead of getting thrown out of a club, Jaebum watches as Jinyoung takes up the space the bouncer left. He’s still in his underwear, but he’s draped in a huge coat that Jaebum recognizes as one of the ones Jaebum had bought him as a gift a few years ago. The glitter around Jinyoung’s eyes sparkles faintly in the dim light of the alley, but the light is enough that he can see the anger and hurt on Jinyoung’s face. 

“I didn’t know,” Jaebum says suddenly, surprising them both. There’s a lisped quality to his words where he tries to avoid splitting his lip further, more blood running down his chin in a hot line, and he absentmindedly licks at it. “I didn’t know. Eric took me here, and he didn’t know either.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flash when he says that Eric brought him here, but then Jinyoung is just sighing heavily and looking down. When he looks up again, Jaebum notices he looks tired, even still. He wonders how late he works, and what all he does with the men who come here—this late though makes him sick, and he mistakenly bites down on his already split lip, the taste of copper and salt exploding in his mouth. Jinyoung’s body twitches like he was going to move forward, but he stills himself and schools his features into a blank look. “You shouldn’t have come here, Jaebum, and you shouldn’t come back.” 

Then Jinyoung gives him one last look, that blank mask slipping for just a moment to reveal the man Jaebum loves underneath, standing in the doorway of the club all glittering misery. Then he turns, letting the heavy metal door slam shut behind him, and he’s gone. 

His eyes fall closed and his knees give, suddenly exhausted. Eric finds him like that, shivering and sitting on the cold ground, chin covered in dried blood and lip swollen.

“Jaebum-ah,” Eric says, voice quiet and a little nervous, like he’s afraid Jaebum’s going to snap at him. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” 

Jaebum opens his eyes and looks at the door, blinking slowly. His whole body hurts—his lip, his hand from where he slapped it on the stage, his legs from sitting on the cold ground, his heart. Everything hurts. He doesn’t look at Eric when he says, “it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

 

 **JINYOUNG**  
**______________________**

 

Jinyoung unconsciously pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders as he makes his way back to his dressing room in a daze. It feels like it takes forever—the shock at seeing Jaebum here, where he’s been picking up extra money to help Jackson pay rent, the sick feeling in his stomach when he watched the bouncer practically toss Jaebum into the alley, the desire to go to him and wipe the blood from his face where he split his lip. He hasn’t seen Jaebum in over two months, and he wasn’t planning on seeing him anytime soon. His whole body feels weak, so when he finally finds Mark waiting for him outside his dressing room, Jinyoung practically collapses into him. 

“Jinyoung-ah,” Mark says, alarmed at the way Jinyoung practically drops, catching him under the arms. “What’s wrong?”

Clutching two fistfuls of Mark’s coat, Jinyoung buries his face into his shoulder. “Jaebum was here.”

Mark holds him at arm’s length, eyes wide and inspecting his face. “He was here? Did he see you?” 

Jinyoung sniffles, and he realizes that his face is wet from tears that he didn’t even feel when he wipes a shaky hand across his eyes. “Of course he did. Of course he did, and of course it didn’t end quietly, because things with him never do.”

Mark’s face softens and he pulls Jinyoung closer. “What happened?”

Leaning his head on Mark’s shoulder, Jinyoung closes his eyes. “I was just dancing, and then all of the sudden I get this sudden urge to look into the crowd, which I never do—it was so weird, it was like something was telling me to look down, and then as soon as I did, Jaebum was out of his seat in the front row and tipping toward the stage looking like he was having a seizure. The look on his face, Mark—“ Jinyoung shudders, breath catching, “—it was awful. He looked like he was dying. I’ve never…I’ve never seen him look like that before. Not even when his father died. And then suddenly he had a hand on the stage and started yelling. Minho finally showed up to get him, but not before Jaebum dragged Jackson into it, asking me if Jackson made me do this.” 

He feels Mark wince. “Yikes. I wouldn’t mention that to Jackson.”

“I wasn’t going to. He’s having a hard enough time not going to Jaebum’s house and beating the shit out of him as it is.”

Mark sighs, and Jinyoung’s heart contracts at how forlorn it sounds—he knows that Mark is especially torn up at the lines that have been drawn in the sand between all of them. Jinyoung knows that Mark and BamBam both spend time with Jaebum relatively frequently, and he doesn’t fault them for it—he’s glad that this mess hasn’t completely torn them all apart. Part of him wishes that Jackson wouldn’t be so angry with Jaebum, although he understands. Jackson is his best friend, so naturally he’s going to be upset with Jaebum for the mess they’ve made of things, but it hurts him, too: Jaebum hated Jackson during the time that Jackson wouldn’t speak to him, but when Jackson finally came back into everyone’s lives, Jaebum put it aside and found a way to forgive Jackson, and loved him just as much as everyone else. It hurts him that nobody came out of this unscathed.

Leaning away from Mark, Jinyoung opens the door to his dressing room. “I’m sorry.”

Mark follows him into the room, letting the door fall shut quietly behind them and leaning against it as Jinyoung digs through his duffel bag to find clothes. “For what?”

Jinyoung paws around the bag quietly, trying to find the long-sleeved shirt he brought. When he finds it, he closes his hand around it and drops onto the couch, looking down at it miserably. “For all of this. I didn’t think—I didn’t think leaving him would hurt everyone else this much.”

“I know you’re not that naive. You knew this wasn’t going to be a clean break, not with how close we all are. But it wasn’t selfish, and you weren’t wrong for doing it, and you don’t owe anyone any apologies.” 

Jinyoung looks up at him, eyes wet. In the dim lights from the uncovered lightbulbs over the giant mirror in his dressing room, standing in the doorway, Mark looks more beautiful than ever—his blond hair falls into his eyes when he’s too distracted to push it away, his mouth drawn carefully into a thoughtful pout. His dark eyes gleam in the low light, watching Jinyoung carefully. Jinyoung wishes, suddenly and terribly, that he still loved Mark. It would have been so much easier if he loved Mark.

“But you don’t,” Mark says, startling him.

“What?” Jinyoung doesn’t think he said any of that out loud, but he’s also still a little dazed from seeing Jaebum earlier, so maybe he did" 

“You don’t love me.” 

“I didn’t—“

A smile splits Mark’s face in a way that used to make Jinyoung’s heart skip. Now it just makes him feel safe. “I know, but I know you. I see how you’re looking at me, and I know what you’re thinking.” 

“What was I thinking?” Jinyoung asks, testing him. 

“About how much easier your life would be if you still loved me. If we had stayed together all these years.” 

“Mark, that’s terrifying.”

He just laughs, high pitched and musical. “I just know you. So don’t even try that—thinking about how much easier it would be if you loved me still, in that way. Because you don’t. Life isn’t easy, Jinyoungie. You know that.”

Jinyoung feels his heart crack a little more when he remembers how Jaebum looked at him in the alley, blood on his chin and looking for all the world that he was dying on the inside. He whispers, “I know. But I wish it was." 

Mark motions for him to get dressed. “Don’t we all?”

 

 **JAEBUM**  
**______________________**

 

Jaebum goes back to Rage a couple of nights later, alone. He doesn’t tell anyone he’s going—at this point, he’s pretty sure that he was the last to find out that Jinyoung had started exotic dancing while he’s on leave from work, and everyone knows that Rage is where Jinyoung dances, so he definitely keeps it a secret. He tells Yugyeom he just needs some time to himself and he turns off his phone so that no one can get a hold of him. It’s stupid, and it’s risky, and he shouldn’t do it because he’s going to hate himself exponentially more than he already does—but, fuck it. Jaebum’s already lost the one thing he was afraid to lose, and he’s feeling reckless.

He doesn’t even actually know that Jinyoung is going to be here tonight—it’s a Sunday night, and the normally crowded area is quiet, with only small clusters of people sitting on the patios of bars or in line for clubs. All of the lines are almost nonexistent to the point where Jaebum feels like they’re just being as pretentious as possible, and he hates himself a little for feeding into it. But then he’s face with the bouncer outside, hand out for his ID. It’s a different bouncer than last time, and it’s not the one who threw him out, but there’s no way this is going to go over as easily as he was planning on it.

He’s right. The bouncer hands him his ID back and says, “do you really think you should be here, Mr. Im?” 

Clearing his throat, Jaebum replies politely: “I don’t know what you mean.”

The bouncer rolls his eyes, and Jaebum feels a little cowed. “You know exactly what I mean. We all know about the scene you made with Jinyoung last time you were here. I feel inclined to tell you to pound sand.”

The phrase sounds distinctly American, but the meaning comes across loud and clear: Get the hell out of here.

“Am I not allowed to be here? As a paying patron, I don’t know that you’re within rights to keep me from coming in.”

The bouncer, who is easily twice Jaebum’s size in both height and width, stands up a little straighter and crosses his thick arms over his chest. “If I heard correctly, Jinyoung had Minho throw you out. So it sounds to me like you were causing a problem, not him.” 

Jaebum’s starting to get embarrassed, and the people behind him are leaning closer when they realize there’s some sort of hold up. “Did they leave out the part where he grabbed me?” 

Mouth closing, the bouncer stares at him. He goes to say something again before a taller man steps out, impeccably dressed in a dove gray suit with the shiniest silver cuff links Jaebum has ever seen. His mid-length dark hair is slicked back sophisticatedly, and his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Hello, I’m Kang Jitae. Is there an issue?”

Before the bouncer has time to say anything, Jaebum straightens up and runs a hand through his black hair in a show of frustration, the rings on his fingers glowing in the blood red light from the sign above their heads. “I’m Im Jaebum, and it seems as though your guard dog is having trouble letting me in due to a misunderstanding that occurred last time I was here.” 

Jitae glances at the bouncer. “Is this true?”

“Technically,” the bouncer sneers. “Although he’s sugar coating it. Majorly.” 

“Hmm. Well, we can’t possibly let such a high-profile such as the CEO of Im Enterprises be left out in the cold over a little misunderstanding, shall we?” Jitae throws a glare at the bouncer before taking Jaebum’s elbow and leading him inside. “Sorry about that. The security here gets very defensive of the dancers.”

Jaebum nods, his stomach twisting a little. This guy is definitely seedy, but it’s not like he could expect much from a guy who owns a gay club called Rage. “Understandable. Being a dancer in such a nice place as this one is bound to attract some interesting clientele.”

Jitae laughs, his eyes crinkling in a way that reminds him of Jinyoung, so he looks away. He slaps Jaebum on the back and then is guiding him to the main floor. When they emerge from the dark of the lobby, Jaebum is surprised to see that the place is pretty full for a Sunday—there’s not nearly as many people as there were on Thursday or as there must be on a weekend, but he’s surprised that most of the tables are taken up. Most of them are men, this time, with only a few women scattered at various tables. A lot of them are older, too; more…seedy looking. Jaebum’s stomach turns: is this what Jinyoung has to put up with? Old, horny men leering at him all night? The idea of it makes him sick.

Jaebum realizes that JItae had been talking to him. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

“I asked if there’s anyone in particular you come to see.”

“Ah,” Jaebum says, rubbing the back of his head nervously, eyeing the bar. There’s a female bartender there this time, cleaning glasses slowly. “I don’t know his name,” he lies.

“Is it Jinyoung, perhaps? The misunderstanding that happened last week was with our dancer Jinyoungie.”

The nickname coming out of Jitae’s mouth puts him on edge, and he grits his teeth. “Yes, that’s the one.” 

Jitae smiles at him, and it sends shivers down Jaebum’s back: it’s predatory, almost, as sharp as a knife’s blade. “He’s a beautiful one. He’s our most popular.”

“For good reason.” Jaebum says, and tries not to get sick on Jitae’s expensive leather shoes.

“I’ll tell you what—for the misunderstanding at the door, I’ll get you a VIP seat up on the balcony for the night. How’s that?”

Looking up, Jaebum notices the balcony above their heads that wraps around three of the four walls above the stage. The angle is just good enough that he’ll be able to see Jinyoung, but unless he looks up, Jinyoung probably won’t know he’s here. Nodding, Jaebum looks back at Jitae. “Sure. That’d be great.”

Jitae points him in the direction of the stairs, waving to the bouncer standing at the bottom of them. When Jaebum approaches the man unclips the barrier and lets him go through, and Jaebum climbs the stairs in an uncomfortable silence. He can hear the people below chatting quietly, but once het gets to the top and picks a seat closest to the edge of the balcony, he can’t really make out what they’re saying. Casting a quick look around, he realizes he’s the only person up here before he leans his arms on the railing and rests his chin on his forearm. He watches the stage as the lights dim, music floating up to him, trying to keep his mind clear. 

As the music gets louder, Jinyoung steps out from behind the violently red curtain, body concealed from neck to mid-shin in a double-breasted coat that’s an alarming shade of purple. Even from up top, Jaebum can see the purple shadow smudged above his eyes again and the color of it against the light tan of Jinyoung’s skin makes his heart do something painful. He wonders if the purple glitter eyeshadow and the purple coat was purposeful. The color looks lovely on Jinyoung’s skin, dusted again with a light sheen of sparkling powder that makes him look almost ethereal in the light. As the song picks up, another American song, he starts to move. It’s slow at first, the song dark and deep and slow, the bass pounding steadily like a heartbeat. Jaebum realizes that Jinyoung’s dances are more choreographed than the other dances—it’s not overtly sexual, but the sinuous line of his body as he moves is sensual in of itself; the careful way his fingers skitter off his own skin almost like a tease. Jaebum feels his stomach tighten, teeth grinding together until it’s almost painful.

He watches in awe as Jinyoung moves. While they were in college, Jinyoung did a little dancing on the side, knowing that he had a pretty strict control on his body and could find the rhythm in anything very easily. Jaebum suddenly remembers a party that he had seen Jinyoung at before they were together, when they were still playing the I-hate-you-but-secretly-I-love-you game. He remembers watching Jinyoung dance against Jackson and then beckoning to him when Jackson disappeared; he remembers the way that Jinyoung seemed to be an expert at making him go crazy with the way he moved his body. Jinyoung’s always been a fantastic dancer, but Jaebum thinks that now he’s really, truly uncovered that talent in himself—casting a glance at the crowd, all of them are silent, enchanted by the way that Jinyoung moves. It’s so fluid, one piece of choreography absolutely flowing into another, and then the coat slides off his shoulders to reveal the collarbones that Jaebum has bitten his desire into a hundred thousand times. The sight of them, so pronounced, half-sheathed by the double-breasted Burberry coat that Jaebum suddenly recognizes as one of his own, makes his mouth go dry. The split in his lip from his tumble into the brick wall throbs painfully when he bites down on it.

Jinyoung’s eyes are closed, and Jaebum suddenly wonders if this is less about the money he makes from doing this and the attention than it is about just losing himself to the music. He looks positively, utterly, heart-achingly beautiful, but with his eyes closed and moving to the unfamiliar American songs he chooses, he looks untouchable. A million miles away on his own planet, dancing like no one is there to see it. The coat slips further, bunching around his elbows now and exposing his thin chest. The swallowtail of the coat brushes against the floor as he spins, and Jaebum’s breath catches at the line of Jinyoung’s back, so long and unmarked, the skin stretching over his shoulder blades. His heart thumps painfully against his ribs as he remembers what it was like to trace his fingers along them every morning for five years, mumbling sleepily that they were small and beautiful like a bird’s wings. Jinyoung spins again and does a body roll that has Jaebum’s jeans fitting a little tighter, but he tries to push the thought away. Jinyoung drops the coat and it pools on the stage around his ankles, leaving him again in the black underwear that Jaebum is intimately familiar with.

It feels like it goes on for hours—Jaebum sitting on the edge of his seat watching Jinyoung dance like the night’s in slow motion, but it’s really only about thirty minutes. The music fades out and then Jinyoung bows, ever the picture of politeness, and it makes him laugh a little. Up this high, the sound carries more than he expected it to, and Jinyoung’s head snaps up from where he’d been swiping up bills from the stage. When he sees Jaebum sitting up in the balcony, his eyes go hard and flat as disks, hands fisting over the bills and crushing them. Shit, Jaebum thinks, and in a flash he’s up and out of his seat, hurrying down the stairs. When he jumps the last one and hits the floor, Jinyoung is sliding the coat back on over his shoulders and most of the patrons are filing out, some stopping by the bar for last call. Instead of going back through the curtain, Jinyoung takes a small set of stairs down to the floor on the opposite side of the stage as him, and Jaebum sees the faint outline of a hallway in that direction. He jogs over, calling out to Jinyoung before he can completely disappear down the hallway that’s guarded by another huge bouncer.

“Jinyoung.”

He watches as Jinyoung freezes, shoulders going stiff under the oversized coat. Jinyoung turns halfway, catching his eye before he seems to decide that this isn’t going to happen tonight, and he continues toward the hallway, nodding at the bouncer. Jaebum speeds up, aiming to catch up with him, but before he can even step foot in the hallway, a familiar blond head appears and is pushing him back with a hand on his chest.

“Don’t,” Mark says, turning to motion to the bouncer that he can leave; there won’t be an issue here. Mark waits until the bouncer disappears to turn back to Jaebum. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Feeling frustrated at being thwarted, Jaebum cards a hand through his hair and pulls on it. “I know. But it’s not what it looks like.”

“Like you’re here to watch him dance and get off to it since you’re not together anymore?”

“Yes,” Jaebum says sharply, growing teeth at the implication. “That’s not why I’m here, and you know that.”

Mark just sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just being overprotective." 

Suddenly, Jaebum realizes that Mark is here, at Rage. He laughs without any humor. “So this is the club you’ve been working at, huh?”

Mark at least has the decency to look cowed. “Sorry,” he apologizes again. “I had strict orders not to tell you.”

Jaebum just hums in response, feeling vaguely put out. 

“Why are you here, Jaebum?” Mark asks, and he sounds…sad. It makes him look up, and he realizes that Mark looks just as tired as he feels: there’s bags under his eyes like two bruises pressed into the skin. He wonders how much this break-up is taking a toll on everyone else and not just himself and Jinyoung.

“I want to talk to him. That’s all.”

Mark gives him a look. “He doesn’t want to talk to you. You know that.”

“I’m aware,” Jaebum grumbles, and Mark gives him a lopsided smile that’s painful to look at with all the hidden emotion behind it.

“So why do you keep trying, if you know he doesn’t want to talk to you?”

“Because I need him to talk to me.”

“For your sake, or his?”

“For mine. I need closure,” Jaebum lies. Mark looks at him for a moment, like he’s trying to decide if it’s a lie or not. He doesn’t say what he decides on, and it makes Jaebum nervous. Ever since middle school, Mark has been unnervingly perceptive. More so, even, than Youngjae.

“What you want and what you get are hardly ever the same, Jaebum-ah. You know that.”

Jaebum remembers that day in his office when Jinyoung said almost the exact same thing:

_Jinyoung just looks sad now. “Things change.”_

_“Not if you don’t let them.” He’s starting to get desperate now. It’s a generic rebuttal that holds no weight. He knows it, and Jinyoung knows it._

“What we want and what we get are often two separate things, Jaebum.”

He wonders if Jinyoung heard that from Mark, or the other away around. The memory makes his stomach twist painfully, and he just sags, ready to go home. “Yeah. I know.”

Mark huffs a quiet laugh, but it’s not unkind. When Jaebum looks at him again, Mark is looking at him fondly, if not a little sadly. “You don’t give up do you, Im Jaebum?” 

“I love him,” Jaebum says, and the truth of it makes him stand up straight. “I won’t give up on him.”

Looking behind him quickly as though to make sure no one’s there, Mark turns back and pulls Jaebum into a hug. Quietly, Mark whispers into his ear before letting go and stepping away, nodding once at him before disappearing into the hallway to find Jinyoung. As Jaebum leaves the club, the place deserted of everyone except a few staff members, Mark’s parting words to him rattle around loudly in his head until it drowns out all other thought. He wonders if it’s true as he steps out onto the sidewalk, a cold wind raising goosebumps across the exposed skin of his neck as he raises a gloved hand for a cab. He wonders if Mark would ever be so cruel to lie to him, to say something untrue just for the sake of making him feel better. But after knowing Mark for years, he doesn’t think so. Turning his head in the back of the warm cab, Jaebum watches the lights pass in a pinwheel of color as they leave downtown, Mark’s words in his head like an echo.

_I don’t think he’ll give up on you, either._


	3. Chapter 3

> **JINYOUNG  
>  __________________________**

Jinyoung feels like he's going to explode as he hides in the hallway, listening to Mark intercept Jaebum and talk him down from whatever  
weird high he's on for being here.

"Don't," Mark says, and he waves away the new bouncer. His head turns back to Jaebum, obscuring his face from view and giving Jinyoung only a glimpse of the top of Jaebum's head. Mark's voice sounds wary when he says, "You shouldn't be here."

"I know," Jaebum replies, and his voice sounds thin. The lights flash off his rings when he tugs on his hair in frustration, a trait that Jinyoung realizes, with a start, that Jaebum picked up from him. "But it's not what it looks like."

Jinyoung thinks it looks exactly like that: that he's desperate, but Mark's reply is more harsh. "Like you're here to watch him dance and get off to it since you're not together anymore?"

"Yes," and even from where he's standing obscured in the hallway, Jinyoung can hear the bite in just the single word. He winces, heart thumping painfully in his chest. "That's not why I'm here, and you know that."

Does he? Jinyoung feels ashamed, suddenly, that he ever thought that Jaebum would ever be here for a more sinister purpose. Jaebum was (and still is, usually) a handful, and sometimes he got aggressive, but it never terrified him in a way that he felt that Jaebum would ever seriously harm him. He feels a little sick that their breakup would distort his surety.

Mark just sighs, and it sounds tired. So, so tired, like he's exhausted from all the fighting. And, Jinyoung thinks, guilt stabbing him in the gut, isn't he as well? He's so caught up in the way being apart from Jaebum makes him feel like he's ripping in half that he forgets to stop and think about how this hurts their friends. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just being overprotective."

Jaebum goes quiet for a second before he laughs, a sharp and brittle sound that sticks in Jinyoung's ears like icicles. "So this is the club you've been working at, huh?"

Mark's shoulders come up to meet his ears, and Jinyoung can imagine the apologetic look on his face. "Sorry. I had strict orders not to tell you."

Jinyoung sees Jaebum nod, and hears the low sound of a noncommittal hum come from him in place of a response. For a terrifying second he thinks Jaebum is going to leave, and without thinking he pushes himself away from the wall. He's about to go after him when Mark says, "Why are you here, Jaebum?"

"I want to talk to him. That's all."

Jinyoung can hear the truth in his words, and his stomach knots painfully. He wants so badly to talk to him—he doesn't know what he'll say, or do, or if he'll even have anything to say. But he feels like it's been so long since he's seen Jaebum's face: his dreams are littered with the repeated image of Jaebum's eyes, the two small moles dark like the expanse of the universe, pulling him under. At this point he doesn't know who he's holding out for, him or Jaebum?

"He doesn't want to talk to you. You know that."

A lie.

Mark must give him a look, because Jaebum just grumbles. "I'm aware."

"So why do you keep trying, if you know he doesn't want to talk to you?"

Still a lie.

Jinyoung's heart beats wildly in his chest, like he can't decide in which direction to run.

Jaebum's voice sounds a little desperate now, shaking at the end. "Because I need him to talk to me."

"For your sake, or his?"

His reply is quick, but trembles all the way through like he wants to cry. "For mine. I need closure."

A lie. Jinyoung almost laughs.

  
“What you want and what you get are hardly ever the same, Jaebum-ah. You know that," Mark says, voice soft but stern in a way that Jinyoung thinks only works on Jaebum when it comes from Mark. He scoffs a little, muttering line-stealer under his breath while he continues to eavesdrop.

He can just barely see the top of Jaebum's head where he's standing directly behind Mark, Mark's back obscuring the rest of his features. Even in the dimness he can see Jaebum's hand shaking when he lifts it to card through his inky black hair. Jinyoung's heart contracts when he helplessly remembers what it feels like to run his own fingers through the silky strands.

Jaebum's voice sounds defeated in a way that makes his stomach hurt when he replies. "Yeah. I know."

It feels like only last week that Jaebum had been twisting his arm to get him into his office at the top of the building. It seems just like last week that they had that final showdown in his office, where he so desperately tried to play it cool and push the blame on Jinyoung. That Jaebum was so like and unlike him; memories of the cruel Jaebum from their childhood resurface, but then fade out underneath the memories that the two of them have been creating together for the last 5 years. The Jaebum of their adulthood so much different than the one from their adolescence, still sharing that same sense of passion, though they come from different places now. The absolute lack of fire or life in Jaebum's voice while he talks to Mark makes Jinyoung wonder if what he's doing is really helping them or if he's just slowly killing the one person he loves most in this world.

Mark laughs quietly, breaking Jinyoung from his reverie. "You don't give up, do you Im Jaebum?"

Jinyoung's heart beats faster against his ribs, white knuckling the wall as he watches Jaebum straighten up in what almost feels like defiance. "I love him," he says, and it's the most passionate thing Jinyoung's heard him say in weeks. He feels weak. "I won't give up on him."

A truth. A rock-solid, unforgiving, irrefutable truth.

His knees buckle, and Jinyoung pushes himself off the wall again before he slides down to the floor. He turns away quickly, missing the hug that Mark pulls Jaebum into in favor of rushing into his dressing room and frantically trying to find clothes to pull on. There's a pair of dark jeans from the day before hanging on the chair in front of the mirror, and he hurriedly pulls them on while searching the room for a shirt that's not covered in glitter. He hears Mark say a farewell to Jaebum from down the hallway, and Jinyoung just desperately grabs a sweatshirt to pull over his bare torso before he misses his chance. Jinyoung practically falls out of the door at the same time that Mark opens it from the other side, his mouth already open like he's going to say something. With a hand on Mark's chest, he pushes past him and bolts down the hallway toward Jaebum's retreating figure.

"Wait!" he shouts, and the loudness of his voice surprises him. "Jaebum! Wait!"

Jinyoung stops when Jaebum stops, frozen in place. He doesn't turn around right away, and there's a panicked moment where Jinyoung thinks he's just going to leave without talking to him. But then he's turning, so slowly, uncertainty even in the folds of his cardigan when he turns around. Hesitance lingers in every line of his body even when their eyes meet.

He feels lost, suddenly. Jaebum's just watching him, eyes wide like he can't decide if this is really happening or not. Jinyoung starts to say something, chokes, and goes quiet again. Anxiety hums through his blood making his nerves feel like a live-wire. "I—wait."

"I am waiting." Jaebum's voice is flat, emotionless, but Jinyoung can see the tension pulled tight in his shoulders. After so long, they're still so attuned to the most minuscule details. His fingers itch to walk themselves along Jaebum's skin, and he curls them into his palms.

"Do you... Do you want to talk?" It comes out sounding lame, and he wants to smack himself.

Across from him, Jaebum nods. The low light of the club sends shadows across his face, and Jinyoung can barely make out the tightness around his mouth and the gleam of his eyes. Jinyoung can feel Mark behind him, and he turns to see Mark leaning against the wall. He's acting like he's not paying attention, but Jinyoung knows him too well to fall for it. "Mark," Jinyoung says, and Mark looks over at him. "I'm going to take Jaebum into my dressing room to talk for a few minutes. Can you tell Jitae I'm busy and to send out someone else later?"

Mark just nods and disappears, leaving Jinyoung alone with Jaebum for the first time in weeks. He half turns, eyes skittering nervously off the line of Jaebum's shoulders. "Come on," he says, and pretends his voice isn't shaking when he motions for Jaebum to follow him down the hallway.

Jinyoung can hear his footsteps behind him, but Jaebum keeps his distance. The closer they get to his dressing room, the more the anxiety ramps up in his chest, making it feel tight. The sweat on his palms makes his hand slip off the door handle at first, and he nervously glances back to see Jaebum still watching him with the same emotionless face from before. He opens the door, eyes closing involuntarily when Jaebum's shoulder brushes his as he passes. In the small doorway, Jinyoung can smell the familiar scent of the cologne he's been using for years. His heart contracts painfully.

After hesitating for a moment, Jinyoung closes the door and turns to lean his back against it. He watches as Jaebum looks around at the walls from where he's standing in the center of the room, dark eyes shuttered in a way that's alarmingly unfamiliar. Jinyoung hadn't planned on staying at the club for so long—exotic dancing wasnt (and still isn't) his first choice of a long-term gig, but the unpaid sabbatical he took from Im Enterprises meant that he needed a source of income and also something to fill the free time. When he ran into Jitae at a dance studio that he signed up for a week after moving into Jackson's, it seemed like something new and it gave him the opportunity to dance. He never imagined it would be so long term, or that Jaebum would ever even find out. It was just...something to nurse the heartbreak with until he figured out what to do.

Suddenly, he realizes Jaebum is talking to him. He's got his arm extended, pointing at something on the wall next to the mirror. "There's a photo of us hung up in here."

He knows. It's the one of when the two of them went to New York for a weekend, for their second anniversary. Their faces are pushed together, cheeks stained pink with the cold of the American winter. Jaebum's hand is on his neck in the picture, his fingers warm despite the cold air. Jinyoung remembers everything about it in painful detail. "I know," he says, voice quiet even in the near silence of the room. "I put it there."

Jinyoung doesn't miss the way Jaebum's eyes fall closed for a moment, but he doesn't look at him when they open again. They stay fixed on the photo like he's never seen it before. "Why?"

"Because I—" _because I love you,_ is what he was going to say, but he hesitates. Jaebum finally looks at him, and there's months of feeling in his eyes, so many that Jinyoung doesn't know where to start. His heart starts to beat faster. "I like the picture."

He steels himself for a sharp remark, but Jaebum just hums. "I like it, too."

Jinyoung feels beads of sweat chase themselves down his back underneath his sweatshirt. He wonders if this was a good idea, and if maybe he should just tell Jaebum to leave. The idea of Jaebum walking out of the room when it's just the two of them, alone, after so long, makes him feel vaguely sick. "Jaebum-ah..."

Jaebum tugs anxiously on the sleeves of his cardigan at the elbows where his arms are crossed. His voice, when he replies, is pleading. "Don't say my name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to tell me to leave."

Something in him cracks. Jaebum looks sad, so sad. The slump in his shoulders and the way he's holding his arms across his chest like if he'll fall apart if he doesn't. Jinyoung wonders, suddenly, if all of this was a mistake: leaving without saying anything, avoiding Jaebum, the radio silence. Jaebum looks like the way Jinyoung feels on the inside: like a piece of him is dying, slowly, every day that they're apart.

But he doesn't know how to fix it.

He takes a deep breath. "I'm not," he says, voice wavering slightly. "But why are you here?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Jaebum says, and it comes out a little harsh. He seems to realize that and winces slightly. "Sorry. But you know why I'm here. I want to talk to you."

Jinyoung can't help it. He sucks in a breath. "Why?"

There's a sudden frustrated tightness to Jaebum's shoulders, and he wrings his hands nervously against his abdomen before suddenly deciding something. He steps forward, avoiding Jinyoung's eyes. "I have to go."

Without thinking, Jinyoung reaches out and catches him by the wrist before he can grab the door handle. Now they're only about a foot apart, Jinyoung's hand on his wrist and Jaebum frozen in place. He's staring at where Jinyoung's holding onto his wrist like he can't believe it, like Jinyoung's never touched him in his life. The feeling of Jaebum's skin underneath his hand feels like he's grabbed a telephone wire; Jaebum's wrist is hot underneath his palm and the nervous beat of his heart drums into his fingertips. It's the closest they've been in weeks without preparing each other for a fight, and Jinyoung is surprised at how fast his mouth dries out. The atmosphere in the room changes, growing heavy, pressing down on the two of them like hands. Jinyoung realizes in another part of his brain that this situation is very quickly spiraling out of control.

  
Their showdown begins, with both of them looking at each other like they're afraid of who's going to break first. Outlined by the soft orange light of the lights above the mirror, Jinyoung's heart squeezes at the way that Jaebum looks unfairly beautiful underneath them, all crisp cut lines on his lean frame. His inky black hair tousled in a way that looks random but is, as Jinyoung knows, meticulously practiced, and it falls delicately on his forehead. The dark eyes underneath pin him in place where Jaebum's looking at his face now, the two angel's kisses above his eye like the final embellishment on a gift from God. Jinyoung hopes with sudden fervor that he's going crazy, because what sane person would ever give him up?

"Don't go," Jinyoung says, and his voice trembles. Sweat gathers at his temples.

"Yah," Jaebum sighs. "Don't do this. Don't make this harder for me."

That wakes him up a little. Jinyoung straightens a little against the door, but doesn't let go of Jaebum's wrist, and Jaebum doesn't pull away. "Harder for you? Like this isn't hard for me?"

  
"Is it?" Jaebum quips, but not unkindly.

"Of course it's hard for me!" Jinyoung says, more loudly than he intended. "It was hard for me the day I took all the things out of our dresser, what made you think that this was easy for me?"

There's the beginning of an infuriating smile curling Jaebum's lips. "You haven't spoken to me barely once since you've left, and each time you spoke to me, it was that I shouldn't come back here, or shouldn't speak to you at all. It seemed like you were having an easier time than I was, since you never called." He's so close that his breath ghosts across Jinyoung's neck.

"Because I'm weaker than you," Jinyoung says, and Jaebum's smile drops in surprise. He lowers his voice. "Because I'm weak for you, Im Jaebum, and even you standing here and acting smug when I know you're dying inside just like I am is breaking my resolve, you weasel."

  
Jaebum, for once, seems like he doesn't have a reply to this. In fact, it seems that normally calculated Jaebum made a fatal misstep somewhere and got a reaction he wasn't ready for. He swallows hard, and this close, Jinyoung can see the line of his throat work outlined against the orange light. Jinyoung unconciously wets his lips, and Jaebum's eyes drop to follow the motion. When he brings them back to Jinyoung's, they're half lidded and heavy.

"Don't do this," Jaebum says again, but the timbre of his voice says _Do this._

  
Jinyoung tips his head back, exposing his neck in the way he knows Jaebum likes. "Do what?"

"Try to seduce me when tomorrow you're going to go back to not speaking to me."

Jinyoung, still holding onto Jaebum's wrist, moves it to his waist and is triumphant when Jaebum curls his hand around his hip. Slowly, torturously, Jinyoung slides his hand up Jaebum's arm to drape it over his shoulder; his mouth twitches in a quick smile when Jaebum swallows again, fingers digging into his waist. He thinks that maybe he's being a little unfair, because Jaebum is right: tomorrow he may not feel the same way he felt today, but the way his heart slams against his ribs and his dick hardens when Jaebum lifts his other hand and puts it on the door by his face to cage him in sends his thoughts scattering.

"Then leave."

Jaebum's head tilts to the side a little, like a challenge. "You're blocking the door."

Jinyoung steps forward, away from the door, and then their mouths meet for the first time in months.

A soft sound immediately escapes his mouth, opening so that Jaebum can lick into it like he's been doing for years. His other hand leaves the door to cup the back of Jinyoung's head, holding him to him, their kiss quickly ramping up in heat and fervor. Jinyoung fists both hands in the front of Jaebum's cardigan, holding on like he's afraid that Jaebum will leave if he lets go. Jaebum kisses him like it's the last thing he's going to do before he dies, and Jinyoung didn't ever think he'd miss the feeling of someone's tongue in his mouth like he missed this, and he whimpers in pleasure. Jaebum slides the hand on his hip around to the small of his back, pushing him closer, and the friction of their erections makes Jinyoung inhale sharply. Jaebum moves his mouth down to his neck, trailing wet kisses down to the spot underneath his jaw, biting and sucking the soft skin there until Jinyoung's hips are impatiently rolling into Jaebum's. The friction feels so fucking good, pleasure spiking in his blood like pinpricks. He thinks that if he could dry-fuck Jaebum into oblivion, he'd be fine with dying right here and now.

  
But Jaebum has other plans, and he starts to move backward with his mouth still attached to Jinyoung's neck and his hands creeping up underneath his sweatshirt until his back hits the counter in front of the mirror. Jinyoung looks over Jaebum's shoulder into the mirror, trying to memorize the way he looks with Jaebum hunched over him, warm hands playing over his stomach in a way that makes him close his eyes. "Jaebum," Jinyoung says, sounding like the wind's been knocked out of him. He rests his elbows on Jaebum's shoulders and fists both hands in his hair, reveling in the familiar way the silky strands slide between his fingers.

Jaebum runs his hands down Jinyoung's stomach, blunt nails digging into the skin and sending sharp stabs of pleasure through him until he feels like he's going to explode. Jinyoung whines, impatiently rolling his hips into Jaebum's again, and then with one swift moment Jaebum turns them around so that Jinyoung is bent over the dressing room counter. They make eye contact in the mirror, and Jinyoung can't help but laugh a little breathlessly at how ravaged they both look already. The corner of Jaebum's mouth twitches upward in a grin, but drops again when he leans down with both hands on either side of Jinyoung's body. Jinyoung drops his head with a low moan when Jaebum reaches a hand around and plays at the waistband of his jeans, teasing him.

"Don't tease me," Jinyoung begs, grinding back into Jaebum's dick and earning a choked off noise from him as Jaebum's hand tightens on his waist. His eyes fall closed, not wanting to see how desperate he looks in the mirror and focusing on the way that Jaebum's running a hand up his back painfully slowly, taking the sweatshirt with it until his back is exposed. The cold air from the room gives him goosebumps as it cools the sweat gathered on his skin, and then Jaebum leans down to lay soft kisses up his spine. Jinyoung's arms feel weak where they're holding him up bent over the table, the hard marble digging into his stomach in a way that's not entirely unpleasent. He's about to open his mouth and beg more when Jaebum reaches a hand around and pops the button on his jeans, relieving some of the pressure on his erection. Jaebum gets a hand down the front of his jeans, palming Jinyoung's dick roughly through his purple underwear, and Jinyoung doesn't know if he's going to last long.

"Fuck--" Jinyoung pants, starting to shake a little. "Jaebum, fuck--"

In one quick motion, Jaebum hooks his fingers into the waistband of Jinyoung's underwear and yanks them down to midthigh, barely giving Jinyoung time to breathe before he slaps his now-exposed ass. Hard.

Jinyoung tries to muffle it, but he shouts into the quiet of the room and has to lean down to bite the material of his sweatshirt on his arm. "If someone heard that," he says in between breaths, "they're going to walk in on us."

"Good," Jaebum says gruffly, and Jinyoung glances up in the mirror to catch the wild look on Jaebum's face like he's barely controlling himself. Jinyoung watches his hands shake as he undoes his belt even as he feels Jaebum's knuckles brush his bare ass where he's unbuckling it. It seems like Jinyoung's not the only one white-kuckling this.

Jinyoung drops his head again as he feels Jaebum lean over him to grab one of the various lotions on the counter, his dick sliding against Jinyoung's ass in a way that makes him want to fucking scream. He just bites the arm of his sweater again, making little noises that he knows drive Jaebum crazy as he starts to work Jinyoung open with his fingers. After going so long without being touched this way (and by someone who knows his body almost even better than he himself knows it), the sensation feels ramped into hyperdrive, and everywhere that Jaebum's skin touches his feels like it's on fire. Jaebum murmurs quietly to him when he removes his fingers, grabbing one of Jinyoung's hips and he feels him line up, hand coming to rest on the other hip and guiding him back as he slides in. Jinyoung's voice cracks on a low moan, and the sound must do something to Jaebum because his fingers tighten where they're gripping his hips and a broken sound escapes him, going straight to Jinyoung's dick. Impatient, Jinyoung starts to roll his hips back until Jaebum catches up with him, fucking into him with a professionalism that Jinyoung thinks only Jaebum can achieve. Tears leak out of the corners of his eyes with how fucking full he feels--even his heart feels like it's going to burst, and it beats wildly against his ribcage like it's trying to break them. Jinyoung makes quiet noises of pleasure, trying to listen to the way that Jaebum is stringing half-formed thoughts together as he rolls his hips up and deep into Jinyoung, and it's the most noise that Jinyoung's ever heard him make when they fuck. Most of it is unintelligible--low sounds and broken off words like fuck, God, so good, and punctuated with moans so deep that Jinyoung can feel the vibrations of them up his spine.

Jinyoung finally looks up, sweat dripping down his neck now and his arms shaking. Pleasure absolutely electrifies him, and he feels his stomach tighten up and the first touch of the heat in his stomach that means he's about to come. "Jaebum," he pants, "Jaebum, I'm gonna--"

"I know," he gasps, and slides a hand up Jinyoung's back. Even through the haze of months apart and the disastrous sudden explosion of passion they can read each other's bodies like open books. They make eye contact in the mirror, and Jinyoung's heart flips when he sees how Jaebum's hair is messed up and pasted to the sides of his head in a way that makes him look 5 years younger. His mouth quirks up in a smile and he holds Jinyoung's eyes as he reaches around and gets his hand on Jinyoung's dick, working it for a few moments before both of them are squeezing their eyes shut and pure, unadulterated pleasure tears through Jinyoung's body like a hurricane. Jaebum muffles a shout in the skin of his back, letting go of his dick to grab Jinyoung's hips and hold him close to his body while his hips twitch the last few times as he comes.

Jinyoung's arms give out, and he drops to his elbows as Jaebum slowly pulls out. They don't speak to each other as they clean up, but it's not uncomfortable. It doesn't quite feel like the times they had quick, rough sex while they were together, but it feels... different.

When they're finally as put back together as they can be, Jaebum stands close to him while Jinyoung leans against the counter. Jinyoung watches Jaebum watch him, like he's trying to memorize Jinyoung's face in case he doesn't see it again. Carefully, Jinyoung puts a hand on Jaebum's chest. Quietly, looking at the dip in Jaebum's throat that's still gleaming with sweat, he says, "we shouldn't have done that."

He feels Jaebum stiffen, but he doesn't pull away. "I know."

"But I don't regret it," Jinyoung says, and he feels Jaebum look down at him. "I haven't been as honest with myself as I should have been these past couple of months."

Jaebum hums, but doesn't reply.

Jinyoung's fingers dance along the collar of Jaebum's black button up, flattening it down nervously and still avoiding his gaze. Jaebum's hand is on the counter next to him, his other hand on Jinyoung's waist. It's comforting, and for a moment Jinyoung forgets that, technically, they're broken up. It's so comfortable, so normal...

"This doesn't mean we're back together."

He answers this time, and there's no inflection in his voice to give away his feelings. "I know."

Jinyoung takes a second to think--he doesn't regret what just happened, not in the least. And he's right: in the past couple of months, he hasn't been honest with himself. Or their friends, for that matter. Any time that he was out with Youngjae or BamBam or Yugyeom and they asked how he was doing, he said "I'm fine!" like it was supposed to be obvious. But he hasn't been fine, and the only person to really know that is Jackson. And he knows that Jackson would never tell, but Jinyoung knows deep in his heart that Jackson's concern for him led him to tell their friends about how often he really cried himself to sleep, or about all the times that he was awake until the sun came up because he couldn't bear to have another dream about Jaebum. And the whole time, Jaebum was trying--some of his approaches were a little too overbearing at first, sure. And for that, Jaebum has to atone for. But the other times, like tonight, where he was just here, not even trying to get to him, because Jaebum misses him. Where is the fairness in the way that Jinyoung treated him? He realizes that Jaebum doesn't deserve anything--Jaebum's treated him unkindly too, but Jinyoung never intended to repay that with unkindness of his own. But the days turned into weeks, and he thwarted every attempt that Jaebum made to talk to him because Jinyoung was afraid. Afraid that Jaebum was really the person he had been growing up all along, and for that he pushed their already fragile relationship further and further toward its breaking point. Their entire lives have centered around each other, unwillingly and willingly, and Jinyoung feels that they've come too far in their lives to throw it away now.

He's unsure how to continue, and his voice gives that away when he speaks. "But..." he clears his throat and starts over, flattening his hand against Jaebum's chest, fingertips playing along his clavicle. "But I don't want to not get back together."

"Okay."

Jinyoung looks up, brows furrowed, and Jaebum is already looking at him. His dark eyes are soft, and it's a look he's seen on Jaebum's face a hundred million times in the last five years: it's love, pure love, and nothing else. Jinyoung feels undeserving. "Just 'okay'?"

Jaebum leans down to kiss his cheek and steps away. "I'm not going to argue or try to plead my case."

He smiles a little. "But I want you to beg."

Jaebum gives him a smile then--it's small, but it's real, and Jinyoung feels his heart do something funny. "You do enough begging for the both of us."

Embarrassed, Jinyoung reaches back to grab something to throw at him, but Jaebum ducks and heads for the door. Suddenly afraid, Jinyoung steps forward and grabs his wrist. "Wait."

Jaebum turns, watching him carefully, the smile gone.

"Just..." Jinyoung breathes in deep and lets it out slow, closing his eyes. He opens them again when his heartbeat returns to a more normal pace. "I'll call you, okay? Just...I need a few days to really sort things out. To make sure I'm ready to do this again. Just a few days."

And just like that, Jaebum leans in to plant a small kiss on his temple, removing his wrist from Jinyoung's grip. "Alright. I'll wait for your call."

Jinyoung smiles tentatively at him, and a few minutes pass after Jaebum gently closes the door before there's soft knocking. "Come in," Jinyoung says, and realizes that he's been standing in the same place for at least five minutes. He moves to the couch across from the mirror, digging through his duffle bag to find a change of clothes.

"I hope what you just did was worth it," Mark says from behind him, but it's not unkind.

Jinyoung straightens, shooting him a look. "Mark..."

With a small smile, Mark holds up a hand. "I don't want to know. But it's been a couple of months, do you really think you're ready to jump back in with him and fix your relationship?

He doesn't answer at first, unsure of what to say. Even after hating each other for close to seventeen years they ended up together, because it's impossible to resist Im Jaebum. What's a couple of months?

Putting down the shirt he was holding, Jinyoung turns his head to look at the picture of him and Jaebum hanging up next to the mirror. "Yeah," he says, and it's the most sure he's felt in months. "I'm ready."

 

 

**JAEBUM  
_____________________________**

 

A few days go by with no call from Jinyoung. A few days turns into a week, and a week turns into two.

At the end of the second week, he can’t take it anymore. The agony of being so close to fixing their relationship and still having it fall apart in his hands makes him feel like he’s going to die at any given moment, so he finally decides to go back to the club. He doesn’t even want Jinyoung to know that he’s there: he just wants to see if he’s doing okay, and then he’s probably going to leave. After their escapade in (another) dressing room, Jaebum has felt unnervingly skeevy about showing up unannounced at the club.

He dodges everyone’s calls for the entire day, and if anyone’s suspicious about where he’s been or what he’s doing, no one says anything. In the event that anyone should get a hold of him someone, Jaebum prepared an answer of ‘I’ve been working really hard to come up with new plans to get that plant opened in New York’ that would either satisfy them or, better yet, they actually believe it.

The bouncers still aren’t very fond of him, and the one at the door is the one who threw him out that first night. Minho, if Jaebum remembers correctly. When Jaebum gets to the front of the queue, he doesn’t even pull out his ID—at this point, he doesn’t need to. They’ve all seen him enough times this past week to just let him in without saying anything.

Tonight, though, Minho finally has something to say. “Back again, huh?”

It’s not an unusual question, but something in his tone makes Jaebum’s guard go up. The corners of Minho’s mouth are turned up suspiciously. “Yes,” Jaebum says, but doesn’t elaborate.

The bouncer’s lips widen into a full blown smile. “You’re in for a real treat, then.”

Confused, Jaebum opens his mouth to ask what the hell that possibly could mean when Minho just gets a hand on his shoulder and shoves him inside. Jaebum stumbles, muttering to himself as he catches himself and smooths down his coat. He makes his way through the darkness of the lobby, immediately heading to the bar when he comes out on the other side. The bartender is the guy who was here the first night he came with Eric, and they’ve seen each other so much that they’ve established some sort of friendly rapport. They’re not friends, necessarily—Jaebum is pretty sure that if they saw each other outside of this establishment, they’d look the other way. But for now, he’s the only familiar face in a sea of strangers, and Jaebum latches onto it.

“Same as usual?” he asks when Jaebum leans one arm on the bar. He turns when Jaebum confirms, and Jaebum looks away to survey the crowd tonight while his drink is made.

There’s a pretty big crowd for a Thursday—they normally have drink specials which draws a crowd in its own respect, but never this many people. The tables around the stage are crowded, with a lot of people standing in various places behind them and near the bar. There’s a line for the balcony that disappears behind the side of the stage that Jaebum can’t see.

The bartender sets his drink down, and Jaebum finishes the whole thing with a neat flick of his wrist. Wordlessly the bartender refills it, and when he comes back, Jaebum turns to him. “What’s going on? It’s busy in here for a Thursday night.”

Nodding, the bartender takes Jaebum’s empty glass and refills it a third time when Jaebum empties it. “There’s a new dancer tonight. Kind of a last minute thing, he just got booked today. Everyone’s real excited about it, except some of the regulars.”

Snorting, Jaebum sets his empty glass on the counter and declines a fourth when the bartender offers. “Why? Shouldn’t hurt them any, they come for the same dancer, anyway.”

“That’s why they’re upset,” he says, picking up a glass and cleaning it. “Jinyoungie’s not here.”

He tries not to visibly react to hearing it, but he puts a hand on his stomach like he’s just been punched. It’s pretty obvious that Jaebum has also only been coming for Jinyoung, but Jaebum’s never been the type to discuss his preferences with any of the staff members. Minho excluded, for obvious reasons. “Oh? Why’s that?”

If the bartender notices anything off about the way he asks, he doesn’t comment on it. He’s a pretty irregular staff member; he’s only here for a couple of hours a night from what Jaebum has gathered in their short conversations, and Jaebum is pretty sure that he’s one of the only staff members here that doesn’t know that Jinyoung and Jaebum know each other. With a shrug, the bartender puts the glass he was cleaning down and picks up another. “Guess he had some stuff to take care of. I saw him moving his stuff out of his dressing room earlier today. That’s all I can give out, sorry.” 

Jaebum grips the edge of the counter to steady himself, the floor suddenly feeling like its tilting. “You know? I’ll take that fourth drink after all.”

Four turns into five, and five turns into six. Before six can become seven, one of the bouncers is escorting him outside, dumping him unceremoniously in the same alley that he’d been shown before. He can’t even recall how long he’d been in the club for after the bartender told him that Jinyoung wasn’t even there: he’d taken his drink and sat down at one of the empty tables in the back, nursing it until the ache in his chest would only be soothed by the burn of cold whiskey swallowed fast. He’d had a few more after that, and when he went for another is when he’d been taken outside. The whole incident felt like it took fifteen minutes, and maybe it did. His sense of time distorts more and more as he walks down the sidewalk away from Rage and deeper into the downtown area. The lights are dizzyingly bright, everything swimming in a watery glow that blunts the edges of his vision. Everything seems to be passing by in a paradoxical mixture of too fast and too slow—an hour has passed before he realizes that he’s been wandering around the downtown district with no real destination in mind. 

After walking around for so long, he finds himself wandering into all the different clubs to see if Jinyoung might possibly be there. It’s incredibly desperate, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that, and knows that he should just go home, but the desire to find him and see him sticks itself in the forefront of his mind with a tenacity he can’t fight against. Club after club disappoints him, and by the time he stumbles out of the last club on the strip, everything is about to close.

Jaebum leans against the wall of a corner store and closes his eyes after seeing that it’s nearing 3am. The streets are quieter now; there’s still quite a few people milling about, but most of the crowds have gone home for the night. Two voices drift close by him where he’s still standing against the wall, and he blearily opens his eyes after they pass him. Two men are walking hand in hand, talking quietly and laughing with each other. Jaebum’s heart goes cold in his chest when he looks at the one on the left, slightly shorter, and takes in the royal purple coat that hangs down to his knees.

The sight of Jinyoung's coat kick-starts his heart, and before he realizes it, he’s lunging forward to grab the back of the shirt of the man holding his hand. With a startled grunt the man lets go of the smaller man’s hand, and Jaebum fills in the gap with his hand on his chest and shoving the man into the wall.

“YAH!” He shouts, and Jaebum has never seen this guy before in his life. He’s blonde like Jackson, but he’s much taller and almost uncomfortably thin. His face is flushed with anger, a large hand coming up to shove back at Jaebum. “What the fuck?”

Jaebum shoves him harder. “What are you doing?”

This question seems to bewilder him, because his mouth just drops open. Jaebum holds him against the wall with one hand fisted in the soft material of his shirt, holding it against the base of his throat so he can’t move. “How do you know him?”

“Know who?”

With a sharp nod in Jinyoung’s direction where he’s standing behind them, Jaebum says, “him. How do you know him?”

The man’s eyes flick over Jaebum’s shoulder to meet Jinyoung’s before he looks back at Jaebum, still tense but more confused than angry now. “Him? That’s my boyfriend, you psycho.”

Jaebum feels his fist loosen a little in shock, and the man takes the opportunity to flip the situation. Jaebum feels the man reach up and grab his wrist even as his head whips around to look at Jinyoung, eyes first falling on the royal purple Burberry coat. This close, he can see that it looks…wrong. Different. Panicked, his eyes flick up to the face above the popped collars of the coat and his stomach drops in horror when he realizes that it’s not Jinyoung. It’s not even a Burberry coat, and the reason it looks like a different coat is because it _is_ a different coat. He’s so drunk that he couldn’t tell the difference from behind, and now the man in the coat is just watching in silent shock as his boyfriend pulls Jaebum forward by the wrist and lands a punch directly in his left eye. Jaebum catches the hit as he whips back around, and the force of it combined with the guy’s right hook drops him like a rock. Unsatisfied, the man grabs the front of Jaebum’s shirt to lift him up high enough to sock him once, twice, and three times before the panicked boyfriend in the purple coat screams and grabs him by the arm. Jaebum just sits there on the pavement in a daze, arms slack and boneless in his lap as he distantly hears the two of them take off, screeching incoherently.

Minutes pass in silence as he just stares at the pinwheeling stars on the sidewalk, his left eye slowly swelling shut. His face feels wet, and he vacantly wonders when he started crying as he lifts a numb hand to wipe it across his face. It comes away red, and even the shock he feels at the realization that he’s bleeding feels like it’s coming from miles and miles away. His one good eye blinks quickly, trying to clear his head enough to stand up. When he finally does, he teeters toward the wall and has to catch himself on an elbow to readjust before he starts walking.

Drunk and beat up, he limps his way back through downtown toward the residential district with no real destination in mind—he knows his way back home, and he assumes that his body would lead him back there. But after walking for twenty minutes and realizing that he’s gone in the complete opposite direction of his apartment, he finally stops to take a look at his surroundings. He’s walking along the outskirts of a public park, and looks over at the houses across the street and feels a jolt when he remembers that this neighborhood is still relatively new: it’s only been in the district for less than four years, and a lot of the houses are still empty. Crossing the street, he weaves in between the cars parked parallel to the sidewalk and heads up in the direction of the last house on the right before the road curves away and out of sight. His head feels more clear now, and he’s pretty sure that he’s not terribly drunk anymore, but he climbs the steps to the front door in a daze that makes him wonder if maybe he should have called the ambulance instead of walking all the way here. 

He goes to press the doorbell and he hesitates, at last unsure of his actions. Instinctively he knows why his body led him here, and he knows without a doubt who’s going to answer the door, and he knows what’s going to happen when they do. But it’s nearly 4:30 in the morning and he doesn’t know how much longer he can walk before he passes out in the road.

Taking a deep breath, he goes to ring the doorbell. His eyesight feels skewed so he misses the first couple of times he goes for it, but then he finds the small button and leans on it. In the silence of the neighborhood, he hears the soft buzzing as it echoes through the house. A few minutes go by and then through the frosted glass of the windows to the right of the doorbell he sees a light flip on somewhere inside. His heart starts to pound frantically in his chest, and he’s in the process of turning away from the door when it swings open and spills the soft light across the doorstep. 

He hears Jackson’s voice first, thick with sleep: “Who is it—”

“Jaebum?”

He freezes, Jinyoung’s voice cutting Jackson’s off before he can finish. Jaebum’s half turned away from them, his swollen eye mercifully hidden. He doesn’t move, just keeps staring ahead at the wooden slats that make up the top half of Jackson’s porch.

“Jaebum,” Jackson says, and he hears Jackson whisper something to Jinyoung before he tries again. “Jaebum.”

The words feel stuck in his throat, and he swallows hard before trying to say anything. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come here. I just—“ he swallows again, good eye still focused on the wall and not looking at either of them. “I’ve been walking for hours, I think, and kind of lost track…”

Jinyoung’s voice cuts through the last part of his sentence, “hours? Jaebum, you’ve been walking for _hours?”_

He can’t think of anything to say, so he just nods. From the corner of his eye he can see Jackson turn to Jinyoung, standing slightly behind him, and gestures for him to go back inside. Jinyoung refuses, whispering something sharply to Jackson that Jaebum misses. Jackson argues back quietly, and then Jaebum really feels the weight of what he’s doing sitting on his shoulders: stupid, so stupid, he scolds himself, turning the rest of the way to start back down the stairs 

“Wait!”

It’s Jinyoung’s voice, and he’s powerless to fight against it. Just like a couple of weeks go when he was on his way out of the club after being intercepted by Mark, Jinyoung's voice stops him dead in his tracks. He stops on the edge of the porch, turning halfway so that his left eye is still hidden. Jinyoung just watches him, Jackson standing behind him now, looking angry. “I’m sorry, I know you said to wait until you called me, I just--I'm sorry,” Jaebum tries again, his voice shaking. He suddenly feels very, very stupid. Out of all the god awful ideas he’s had recently, this was the worst one. Jaebum can’t even imagine what either of them are thinking about him right now, and the thought that Jinyoung would ever think any less of him makes his knees feel like they’re going to buckle. Never in his life did he ever think that he would be this person—desperate, drinking himself to a stupor, getting into a fight, walking miles and miles and miles just to end up on the doorstep of someone who probably doesn’t want to see him anymore. He wonders where he went wrong, what he did incorrectly in a past life to end up this way. Even before Jinyoung became the center of his universe in college, he was never this way about anything, much less anyone. He feels sick with himself.

“Turn around.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“Turn around.” The anger in Jinyoung’s voice is palpable. It shakes, vibrating in the air like a playback of his own a few moments ago.

Stiffly, Jaebum moves his body to face Jinyoung, but keeps his head turned away to keep only his good eye visible.

“Why are you hiding that side of your face, Jaebum?” Jinyoung asks, and though his voice is still strained with anger, there’s an undercurrent of fear, too: after being together for so long, there’s not a lot that Jinyoung can hide from him in terms of masking his emotions. “Look at me.”

Jaebum closes his good eye, shoulders sagging a little. “Jinyoung-ah—”

“Please. Jaebum, please look at me.”

It’s the desperation in his voice that does it. Jaebum finally looks at him, really looks at him. There’s an audible gasp that cracks in the air around them as Jinyoung gets a look at his eye, swollen and bruising a dark, ugly purple. He can feel the blood dried uncomfortably on his cheek from the cut where the man’s ring struck his cheekbone, but none of it compares to the agony of seeing the desperation on Jinyoung’s face.

It hurts so badly because he knows it well. The same desperation in _Please, Jaebum please look at me_ is so familiar to him because he’s said those words to their friends how many times these past months that Jinyoung has been away from him? _He won’t even look at me, he won’t talk to me, he won’t look at me, Jinyoung, please, look at me._ The desperation comes through louder and more pronounced than the anger because it’s the twin of the one that Jaebum feels gripping his heart like a fist every single day. How did they end up like this? If he would have just waited a little bit longer, he could have avoided this. Jinyoung has both hands over his mouth in a shock that would be comical in any other universe but this one. Jackson just curses under his breath and disappears back into the house; to call someone or just to go back to bed so he doesn’t have to deal with whatever happens next. But for the next few minutes it’s just the two of them: Jaebum watching Jinyoung silently with his one open eye, hands shoved deep into the pockets of the jacket he’s already sweat through.

Finally, Jinyoung moves his hands away from his mouth. His voice, when he finds it, is quiet; there’s a pleading note in it that Jaebum wishes he could make disappear. “You idiot. Oh, you idiot.”

He has no defense for this. “I know.”

“What did you do?” Jinyoung says, and his huge, dark eyes water like he’s about to cry. Jaebum clicks his tongue, stepping forward a little before cutting the movement short awkwardly. “Jaebum, your eye. And your shirt, Jaebum. That shirt is ruined.”

He looks down and, sure enough, there's blood dried into the collar of the plain cotton t-shirt underneath his hoodie. He looks back up, mouth open to say something, but closes it again when there's nothing. What is there to say? There's no excuse for his behavior these last couple of months. There's no excuse for the way he's been dogging Jinyoung like a stalker, no excuse for being impatient when Jinyoung was willing to give him a chance of his own accord. He's sick of himself.

Jinyoung looks like he's going to say something when Jackson comes back down the hallway, dressed in street clothes and pulling on a jacket. His face is drawn, strained like he's trying not to lash out. He pushes past Jinyoung none-too-kindly, and grabs Jaebum by the arm.

"What are you doing?" Jinyoung says, stepping out onto the porch and grabbing the arm Jackson is trying to shove into his jacket.

"I'm taking him to the hospital. Go back to bed, I'll let you know what's going on when I get home."

Jinyoung protests immediately. "No."

Ignoring Jaebum completely, Jackson looks at Jinyoung with a tired annoyance. "Do you not want him to go to the hospital?"

This earns him an eye roll. "No, I'll take him. Not you."

Jaebum fees Jackson's grip tighten on his arm, and Jinyoung notices when Jaebum pulls out of it uncomfortably. "Seriously?"

"Yes. He doesn't need you to lecture him."

Giving up, Jackson runs both hands through his hair and then drops them against his thighs in frustration. "Fine. Suit yourself. Go change."

Jackson leans against the doorframe after Jinyoung disappears back into the house without looking at either of them, and says, "Look at you."

Jaebum watches him carefully. "I know."

"You look pathetic coming here like this. He was in the process of coming back to Im Enterprises and leaving the club. He wanted those things sorted out before he called you, and he just finished paperwork with his boss at the office today. He was so close to calling you. What are you doing?"

Whereas this response would have angered him five years ago, now it only hurts. After Jinyoung and Jackson had repaired their relationship, Jaebum and Jackson had formed their own sort of camaraderie, fragile though it was at first, that eventually blossomed into something stronger; seemingly unbreakable. Though the thought never crossed his mind, then, he had no doubts about where Jackson would stand in this situation. But with the way that the other boys still went out of their way to make time for him, Jackson never did. And whether it was out of cruelty, or loyalty, or his own sort of pain, he wonders if he'll ever know. But regardless of this, he had hoped that Jackson wouldn't sever himself completely, and so this dig at him hurts far worse than he expected.

Jaebum shifts uncomfortably. "I know. I didn't—I didn't mean to. I was so dazed after getting hit that I just started walking. I just ended up here."

Jackson doesn't say anything for a long moment. From inside the house, Jaebum can hear Jinyoung hanging around in the silence that hangs between them. Finally, strained like he's trying to hold himself together, Jackson says, "We've all been so worried about you, Jaebum-ah."

He feels like he's been kicked. His head comes up, one eye looking into Jackson's. "What?"

"We've been worried about you. All of us." He turns, looking over his shoulder to make sure Jinyoung hasn't come back. "Especially him. There were so many times where I wanted to hit you, or yell at you, for what you were doing to him."

"I would have deserved it." Jaebum isn't sure where this is going but he can feel his throat tighten with unshed tears.

"But," Jackson continues as if he hadn't spoken, "even then I knew that I couldn't. Because you were hurting too. And there were so many times, Jaebum-ah, that I wanted to come to you, but it felt...wrong. Like I'd be betraying him and his trust in me."

His chest hurts now. He wants to cry, so badly: after all this time, and Jackson has been worried about him. They're still not out of this mess, but Jaebum thinks that there's a chance yet that they may come out on the other side of it intact. "I understand."

"So just know," he says, and then glances over his shoulder as Jinyoung comes back down the hallway to the front door, finishing quietly, "that I'm sorry. And you'll figure it out."

Jaebum doesn't have time to do anything but nod when Jinyoung is pulling him gently by the arm down the steps. Suddenly the exhaustion punches through him, and he sags dangerously against Jinyoung. Jinyoung almost slips, his hands tightening on his arms to keep them both from tumbling. He feels Jinyoung shake him violently even as his eyes roll back to the whites, sending Jinyoung's voice skyrocketing in alarm. It doesn't last long, and he comes to a few seconds later with Jinyoung kneeling by him on the stairs and frantically patting the side of his face that's not cut.

"Jinyoung," Jaebum says, his good eye opening slightly. "Jinyoung, that hurts."

Startled, Jinyoung pulls his hand back. "Oh. I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

Jaebum sits up, and it sends a sharp pain shooting through his skull like a railroad spike. But the dizziness is gone, leaving him sore and with an incessant pounding in his head and swollen eye. "Yes."

"Can you stand?" Jinyoung unfolds and stretches out a hand, which Jaebum takes gratefully. When their skin touches Jaebum feels his stomach do a flip, and their eyes meet momentarily before Jinyoung looks away. In the dark, it's hard to tell but his cheeks look redder than they did a few moments ago.

Jaebum stands and they walk down to the car, Jaebum's arm slung around Jinyoung's shoulder and his small hand around Jaebum's wrist to steady him. He doesn't mention it, but everywhere their bodies touch feels like a live wire: every brush of Jinyoung's hip against his, every pulse beat in Jinyoung's fingertips against the skin of his arm, every inhale that bumps the sides of their chests together, sends his nerves scattering like marbles. So much contact with Jinyoung after having close to none for months has him feeling like a drug addict falling off the wagon.

Jinyoung puts him in the passenger seat of the car before climbing into the driver's seat. He looks over for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Are you alright?"

Jaebum only looks over for a moment before turning back to look ahead through the windshield. "I'm fine."

It's silent as they pull away from the house, neither of them saying anything. His heart thumps painfully in his chest the longer they go on without speaking, only the road noise and the soft _tk tk tk_ of the blinker audible between them.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Jaebum sighs quietly. "I don't want to go to the hospital."

He sees Jinyoung startle a little from the corner of his eye. "You really need to go, Jaebum. You were hit pretty hard and you fainted a little outside the house. It might be serious."

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he sees it's almost 5:30 in the morning and he bites back a groan. The sun hasn't quite come up yet, but it will in about an hour or so, and he really just wants to go to sleep, concussion be damned. It doesn't feel that serious, anyway: he was drunk when it happened, too, and now that he's sobered up he's just sore. "I'll be fine. I just want to go back to the apartment."

"'The apartment'?" Jinyoung titters nervously. Jaebum closes his right eye, not wanting to dignify this with a response. "Is that what you call it?"

He shouldn't say it, and he knows that he shouldn't, but it's just the truth. He looks away and out the passenger side window when he says, "it's not really a home anymore."

The silence that follows is almost palpable. He almost regrets saying it, but then realizes that he shouldn't. Jinyoung asked, and that was his answer. There's no point in trying to cover it up.

Neither of them say anything else, and that's fine by him. Another ten minutes and then they're pulling into the parking garage at the apartment complex. Jinyoung offers to help Jaebum out of the car, but at this point he's mostly fine. They walk through the lobby together, Jaebum only nodding to the doorman, who looks at them in disinterest. It's not the usual guy, for which Jaebum is thankful. When they get into the elevator, Jaebum suddenly remembers the time in college after fashion week when they were almost in this very same situation: standing silently, side by side, unsure what to say, intertwined in a confusing and heart-wrenching romance that neither of them know what to do with. He can't help it: he laughs bitterly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to keep his hands from shaking.

"What's funny?" Jinyoung says, but makes a point not to look at him. Jaebum glances over and notices that Jinyoung looks a little pale.

"Just that we've been here before."

Jinyoung's voice sounds pained when he says, "of course we've been here before. I used to live here, we've come up this elevator a million times."

"No, I mean before that." Jinyoung finally looks at him, and there's still an unreadable expression on his face. It makes Jaebum nervous. It's been a long time since he hasn't been able to pinpoint exactly how Jinyoung is feeling. "In college. It was after fashion week, when we hooked up in the closet and I invited you to my room and you said no."

As if against his will, Jinyoung huffs a small laugh. "And that's funny to you?"

"It is now," he says, but even when he says it he can taste the bitterness in his mouth. "It wasn't then."

It's quiet for a long moment, and Jaebum just watches the numbers climb as they get closer and closer to his floor. Finally, a couple of floors before his own, Jinyoung says, "I should have said yes."

"I know," and the elevator doors open before him. Jaebum glances at Jinyoung and replies, "but you didn't. And it worked out anyway."

"Yeah," Jinyoung says, but Jaebum misses it when he steps out of the elevator. "I'm glad it did."

 

 

"Sit," Jinyoung commands him, sitting him down on the couch after putting their shoes by the door and hanging up their jackets. Jinyoung immediately takes Jaebum's and throws it in the trash, and he quiets Jaebum's protests when he points out that it's basically unsalvageable. "There's blood stains soaked into it, and you've sweat almost all the way through it. I'm getting rid of it."  
He sits down heavily, finally free of his jacket. The blood soaked into the collar of his shirt has made it stiff, and it rubs uncomfortably against the skin of his throat. He's about to take it off when Jinyoung comes back into the room with the first aid kit and some folded up linens. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to clean that cut on your face."

Something about this situation makes him uncomfortable. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to. You don't even have to stay. Thank you for bringing me here."

Jinyoung catches the meaning behind his words, and his face draws down, looking more tired; more sad. "I know I don't have to. But I will."

Jaebum notices he doesn't say I want to. He swallows.

Jinyoung sits down next to him, laying a towel across his slim thighs and laying out the items from the first aid kit on it neatly. Even still he's organized and controlled, but Jaebum can detect the slightest tremor in his fingers and wonders if he's just as nervous as he is. Jinyoung looks up suddenly, catching Jaebum's eyes, and he feels his face heat in embarrassment. "What?"

"Nothing," Jaebum says, looking away, out the sliding glass door. He can just barely see that the sky above the horizon line is brightening. It's quiet for a moment, Jaebum looking out the window and Jinyoung tinkering quietly with the medical supplies, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable like it had been the last few months.

"Jaebum," Jinyoung says softly. "Look at me."

He turns his head, but he keeps his eyes focused on the wall above Jinyoung's head. There's an uncertainty sitting in his chest like a rock, and after all the events of the night, he feels unstable. He's afraid to look directly at Jinyoung from this close, afraid he might do something he'll regret; afraid he'll do something and Jinyoung will turn away from him. It's enough that they're not together and yet they somehow ended up on the couch together again, after all these weeks of agony. He doesn't think he could handle being spurned a second time.

"This is going to hurt a little bit," he says, and he's so close that Jaebum can feel the soft touch of his breath as it ghosts across his face. He tenses and hopes Jinyoung thinks its from the anticipation and not the fact that he's barely holding himself together. A moment later there's a cold press across his cheekbone, and he winces. Jinyoung murmurs quietly as he steadies himself, hissing through his teeth as Jinyoung pats the cut with a sheet of gauze doused in some disinfectant. The closer he gets to Jaebum's eye the more it hurts, and he jerks his head back when Jinyoung swipes gently underneath his eye with a wet towel.

"I know," Jinyoung says quietly, and he squeezes his eyes shut. "You're covered in blood though. I'm almost done."

They're sitting so close that Jaebum can feel the heat radiating off of Jinyoung's skin, and the press of their thighs together makes him feel like he's going to fall apart. He wants to badly to touch him like he used to, to hold him, to press his love into Jinyoung's skin with his fingertips in the places that make him shake. Two weeks ago seems like a lifetime all of a sudden. Agony unfurls in his chest like a flower, and he feels his fists clench in his lap so hard he could break them. _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,_ he chants to himself, trying to keep himself from saying it out loud; each time it repeats it only digs deeper, hurts worse. He feels the gentle press of Jinyoung's fingertips on the side of his neck, and the sensation makes him tremble, shaking like a dog left out in the cold rain.  
"God, Jaebum, you're shaking," Jinyoung whispers, and it's too close. It's too close. Jaebum opens his eyes but keeps them fixed on the photo of Nora sleeping in the sunlight hanging on the wall directly across from him. How did two weeks pass so quickly and drop him into a pain so immense he can barely breathe?

"I'm alright," he says, but his voice cracks halfway through. He inhales shakily before trying again, but the tremor bleeds into his voice. "I'm alright."

Jinyoung's fingers are still on his neck and he feels like he's going to shatter.

"Jaebum?"

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts--_

"Jaebum, look at me."

 _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts._ "I am looking at you. Are you done touching my eye?"

_IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts--_

"No, Jaebum. I mean _look at me."_

"It hurts." He doesn't even realize that he says it out loud, this time.

Jinyoung's voice goes impossibly softer. "Jaebum. Look at me. Please."

He looks at him.

A thousand and one emotions explode like fireworks in his chest when their eyes meet. Jinyoung is still touching the side of his neck, other hand curled uncertainly in his lap. Emotions chase themselves across Jinyoung's face at warp-speed and Jaebum can't keep up. His eyes are massive in his face, so open and beautiful, and there's so much written in them that Jaebum can't process it all at once. It's all there, but it's so muddied it's like trying to read a book in a language he can't understand. He exhales, trembling. Jinyoung's fingers press harder into his neck like he's feeling for a pulse.

"Are we going to do this again?" Jinyoung asks, and even though he doesn't deserve it in the least, he gives Jaebum a small smile. A real one.

"I don't know," Jaebum sighs, and then he's leaning in.

His lips are brushing across Jinyoung's again and he feels like laughing. Jaebum goes to sit back, but Jinyoung's fingers slip around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, finding his mouth and sealing it with his own. Jaebum feels Jinyoung's fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, and he shivers with a sigh that lets Jinyoung lick into his open mouth. His mind feels like an absolute madhouse as they kiss, all teeth and tongues. Thoughts racket around in his brain like loose marbles, colliding and rolling away before he can grab onto anything concrete, coherency slowly making its way out the door.

Jinyoung's other hand comes up to rest on Jaebum's hip, the tips of his fingers digging their way underneath the hem until they're brushing across his skin. Jaebum gasps quietly, the touch electric, and he just feels Jinyoung smile neatly against his mouth where they're still sealed together. It spurs him into motion, and he lifts both hands from his lap to cradle Jinyoung's face between his palms, so gentle; so afraid to break the moment. Jinyoung sighs, a mirrored sound of his own, melting into the touch in a way that's so familiar Jaebum wants to scream. Jinyoung's hand slides up his side, pulling his shirt up with it until Jinyoung is pushing impatiently on his shoulders.

"Take it off," he says breathlessly, barely moving away from Jaebum's mouth. "C'mon, take it off."

Jaebum leans back far enough and raises his arms so that Jinyoung can pull the shirt over his head, eyes wide when he drops it on the floor beside them. He doesn't come back for a moment, his eyes just raking up and down Jaebum's chest and abs like he's never seen them before.

"What?" Jaebum says, suddenly nervous, going still like moving too quickly might make Jinyoung leave.

"I just..." he trails off. "I just forgot."

"Forgot what?"

When Jinyoung looks back up at him, his eyes are shining with tears. "I forgot how beautiful you are."

It strikes him like an arrow to the heart. In a swift movement he's standing up and grabbing Jinyoung by the hand, pulling him toward the bedroom. He pushes the door open with one hand, not bothering to flip on the light and instead pulling Jinyoung down on top of him when he reaches the bed. It forces a soft laugh out of Jinyoung, who immediately kisses him again, hands roaming all over his body like he's trying to memorize it with his fingertips. He sits up suddenly, adjusting his knees so that there's one on each side of Jaebum's hips and straddling him. It sends a hot stab of pleasure through him, seeing Jinyoung like this again, just for him. Jinyoung's jacket comes off, the shirt underneath rucking up to the shoulders and then all the way when Jinyoung pulls it off impatiently. Their mouths collide again, hands everywhere, touching each other like they haven't done so in years rather than months. Jaebum curls an arm around Jinyoung's lower back and flips them, holding him close while he dips down to lay gentle kisses on the skin of Jinyoung's neck. The man under him sighs, back arching so that their stomachs slide together. The heat is starting to make Jinyoung sweat, and Jaebum licks out at the beads of it collecting in the dip of his collarbone. He shudders, nails digging into Jaebum's back, hips pushing almost impatiently against his own where he's hardened in his jeans.

Leaning up on one elbow, Jaebum trails a hand down Jinyoung's side gently, trying to find the words. "Tell me..." his voice shakes a little, but he doesn't try and fix it. "Tell me you want this. That you're not just doing this because you feel sorry for me."

Jinyoung finds his eyes, one hand on his belt and the other fisted around his heart like it has been since day one. The next words out of his mouth come softly, sweetly, with more honestly than Jaebum feels like he deserves: "I want this," he breathes, and the smile that spreads across his face is heavenly. "I've never wanted anything but you."

It explodes from there. They shed the rest of their clothes in minutes, dropping them on the floor and shoving what their arms weren't long enough to drop to the far end of the bed. Jaebum loses himself in Jinyoung, the feel of his sweat-slicked skin as it moves against his own, the catch and release of Jinyoung's mouth as it attaches itself to different parts of his body. He digs his teeth into the skin of Jinyoung's neck until he's practically shouting, a hand fisted in Jaebum's hair like it belongs there. Complicated emotion bursts over and over in his chest like a roman candle, but then Jinyoung is leaning up and begging Jaebum to fuck him like it's the last thing he'll ever do before he dies.

It's unlike the other times they've had sex in that it feels like he's going to die if he doesn't do it hard enough; fast enough. It's different, even, from a couple of weeks ago: there was an unspoken sort of desperation in the way they fucked in Jinyoung's dressing room that has disappeared here; where the dressing room felt like a goodbye to him, this feels like a promise. When he finally slides in after a few minutes of stretching Jinyoung open, his chest expands like he's going to burst. Their rhythm establishes itself quickly, and it's almost terrifying in its intensity: Jaebum can feel the way that Jinyoung is clinging to him, biceps straining as he holds himself to Jaebum's chest while Jaebum fucks him into the mattress. The give and take is sweet, so sweet; Jinyoung is rolling his hips down into his thrusts, their bodies colliding so hard Jaebum can feel the bed shaking. He laughs, feeling a wildness in his chest that sends his heart beating so hard he can feel the pattern of it in his swollen eye. Jinyoung throws his free arm over his eyes, laughing openly, the sound beautiful and it fills the air of the bedroom like it hasn't done in months. Jaebum thrusts into him until he's begging, wanting to drag out the moment by not touching himself but begging to be touched, all the same. Heat rises in Jaebum's stomach, tightening it, and he reaches down to wrap his fingers around the length of Jinyoung's dick and jerking him off quick and dirty. Jinyoung's back arches off the bed, shouting like he's being pulled in two directions, strings of filth pouring out of his mouth like a hail mary. Their pace quickens almost painfully until they're both shouting over each other, come slicking up both of their stomachs while Jinyoung practically sobs in relief. It slows down, then, the passion fading from the apocalyptic to a tenderness so sweet he could cry.

He lays down next to Jinyoung, handing him a shirt off the floor without bothering to check who it belongs to. Jaebum just watches quietly as Jinyoung cleans off his stomach, throwing the shirt toward the hamper sitting outside the bathroom door and laughing softly when he misses. He turns then, pillowing his head on both of his hands as he looks at Jaebum's face. Neither of them say anything for a while, but it just feels normal; it feels like any other time they just watched each other, tender and loving. If he doesn't think about it too much, it's almost as if the last few months never happened, and it's always been this: the two of them, together, irrevocably and unquestionably in love with each other.

"I love you," Jaebum says softly, hesitantly. He's afraid.

"I know." Jinyoung smiles, and for the first time in near six months, Jaebum notices it reach his eyes. "I love you, too."

Jaebum feels his heart contract painfully in his chest, and he has to bury his face in his crossed arms to hide the tears that slip form the corners of his eyes, uninvited. His breath hitches, and he feels Jinyoung put his hand in the dip of his back.

Softly, so softly. "Jaebum-ah, what's the matter?"

He turns his head to face Jinyoung again, letting the tears come. "I'm so sorry."

Jinyoung just watches him, waiting for him to continue, keeping his hand against the small of his back in comfort."

"There's so much I--The first few weeks didn't make sense to me. I didn't understand how you could have left me. We had everything: a home, a family, money, memories. We worked in the same building and saw each other basically every day for four years straight. I couldn't understand how you could just throw that all away over a couple of rescheduled lunches."

Jinyoung's brow furrows. "Jaebum--"

"Let me finish. So then, those first few weeks, I was just angry. Ask any of the boys and they'll tell you. I was angry at you, and at Jackson. That night I got drunk and called you, you sounded so sad. So sad. It killed me inside. To know that I had done that. I made a promise to myself that I would never hurt you like Jackson did while he wasn't in our lives, and I broke it. I never thought I would do that."

Jinyoung looks sad. "But you did."

It hurts. He nods solemnly. "But I did. And when you wouldn't see me, wouldn't talk to me, I went crazy. I--there were so many things I shouldn't have done. I shouldn't have come to the club every night to watch you. But it was all I had, the only piece of you I had left that hadn't tainted. It was awful. I was awful. I was vindictive and angry and hurt that you wouldn't just talk to me, even for a moment. That you had Mark be your bodyguard because you knew that I would listen to him. I don't recognize that side of me. And then, when we were going to talk in your dressing room--I thought it was because you were going to really end it, really say that it was over. And we ended up having sex, and then you said all those things about how you wanted to get back together. But then you didn't call. And I just--I panicked. I got dead drunk and tried to find you and ended up here because I didn't know where else to go, because all I wanted was to see if you had meant it."

Jinyoung's eyes are wide, shining with tears, and Jaebum reaches out to gently wipe the pad of his thumb through the trail of them down Jinyoung's cheek. "I meant it. I was trying to get my affairs in order."

"I know," he says, and smiles gently. "Jackson told me all about it."

They both laugh softly. Jaebum keeps a hand on Jinyoung's face and asks, almost too quietly to be heard, "What now, Jinyoungie? What now?"

Jinyoung's hand comes up to gently grip Jaebum's wrist, keeping his hand to his face. "We have so much work to do, Jaebum. And it won't be immediate, and it won't be sudden. You know that, don't you?"

He nods, his chest expanding until it feels like it's full, his love for Park Jinyoung filling him up fit to burst. There was never doubt in his mind or his heart that they would grow old together, die together, skip merrily into whatever afterlife there is together. "I know."

Jinyoung smiles that smile that Jaebum has seen in his dream for the past 27 years of his life. "Do you want it?"

Im Jaebum doesn't know if he believes in fate or not, but he can believe in the fact that he's never seen the stars shine as brightly as they do in Park Jinyoung's eyes. The road ahead of them is going to be long, and difficult, but he's never believed in anything as much as he believes in the two of them, together.

"I want it. I've never wanted anything but you."

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like I said, the only person who edited this was me and it's almost 3am! so if there's any mistakes i'm super sorry omg rip <3 
> 
> but I hope u enjoyed it I hope it was worth the wait ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh


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